Fally's Findings

24th December 2011

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Twas the night before Christmas, Lawrence edition

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Lawrence

Not a creature was stirring, not even Dennis;

The firetruck ladder was hung by Weaver’s with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas would soon be there;

The gutter punks were nestled all snug at the Replay,

While visions of Lawrence bands rocked the night away;

And Simon in his sock-hands, and I in my cap,

Had strutted by the Jackpot, which was blaring local rap;

When out on the street there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the smoking patio to see what was the matter.

Away to the street I flew like a flash,

But not before I tripped over some drunk trash;

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to the scenesters below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a van full of dudes, and all their band gear,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment that this band was sick.

More rapid than eagles their opening bands came,

And that’s when I shouted and called them by name;

“Now, Mouthbreaters! Now, Muscle Worship! Now, Ghosty and Minden!

On Major Games! On ACBs! On MORRI$ and Dutch Newman!

To the Replay porch, to the Jackpot music Hall!

Now play away! Play away! Play away all!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they met with their rocking fans, their hands to the sky,

So up to eleven, the band’s music did spew,

With a night full of rock, and some hip-hop too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

Some drunks had suddenly gone aloof,

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down came Team Bear Club with a bound.

They were dressed in all fur, from head to foot,

And their clothes were all tarnished from the party bus route;

A bundle of photogs had come in through the back,

And they snapped a few photos above all the feedback.

The scenester’s eyes - how they twinkled! Their dimples now merry!

Their cheeks were likes roses, their armpits were hairy!

Their droll little mouthes drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of the sound guy hung really low;

The stump of a pipe the potheads held in their teeth,

And the smoke it encircled their heads like a wreath;

The door guy had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook, when he threw drunks out, like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of the bartender’s eyes, and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the beer glasses; except for this one drunk jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

He shouted “Last Call!” and up everyone rose;

They sprang to the door, shooting out like a missile,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

I stood in the street and exclaimed, as they disappeared out of sight,

“What a kickass show! What a hell-of-a night!”

—by Fally Afani

Parody of Twas the Night Before Christmas

Tags lawrencekansastwas the night before christmas