'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the Boards,
Not a creature was posting not even Noob hoards,
The humidors sat by the chimney with care in the hopes that BinDer Claus soon would be there,
The posters were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Cuban sticks danced in their heads,
And Ma in her Thompson's jacket and I in my JR's cap,
Had just settled down for a cigar and a chat,
When in Cigar Talk there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to the forum to see what was the matter,
Away to the keyboard, fingers flew like a flash,
To see if it was a Noob, perhaps I could bash,
The monitor had such a bright shiny glow,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the posts below,
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a '57 Chevy and eight cigar smoking reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Stick,
More rapid than cello questions his coursers they came,
And he whistled and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now Masher, now TT, now Docbarry, now Idesign,
On pmpimbura, on Stogemeister, on Ruger, on Michaelsean,
To the top of the board! To the top of the post!
Now write away, write away, write away most!
As tobacco leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
blown in a stiff wind because they are too dry,
So up to the control panel the coursers they flew,
With a Chevy full of cigars and St. Stickolas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I saw on my video display tube,
The posting of every poster, veteran to noob,
With cigar in my hand and was turning around,
Down the cyber-chimney Binder Claus came with a bound.
He was dressed all in tobacco, from his shoes to his cape,
And his clothes were all covered with ashes and flakes;
A bundle of cigars he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening a pack,
His eyes how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
(Who still talks like this besides dandies and fairies?)
His ogre-like mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And his pastey skin color was as white as the snow,
The biggest double corona he held in his teeth,
And the wonderful smoke circled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a big fat round belly,
That shook when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly,
He was tall and paunchy, a bit out of shape,
Some might even say he resembled, a cigar smoking ape,
A wink of his eye and a flick of his ash,
Soon let me know I wasn't a noob he would bash,
He posted not a word, but went straight to work,
Filling stockings with cigars and ripping on jerks,
And laying his finger on the CA Online key,
Giving a press to Savona's editorials he'd flee,
He jumped in the Chevy and to his team gave a light,
While puffing away the team took to flight,
And I heard him exclaim, ere he left the site,
"Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!"
