‘Twas the Night After Christmas
with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore
‘Twas the night after Christmas, when all through the town
It seemed that each smile turned into a frown,_
As people resumed their burdens of care,_
Even though St. Nicholas had just been there.__
When people were nestled all snug in their beds,_
The events of the year still danced in their heads._
We got ready for bed, finished up our nightcap,_
And just settled down for a long winter’s nap,__
When out of our thoughts there arose such a clatter,_
We woke from our sleep wondering what was the matter._
Away to the window we flew like a flash,_
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.__
But then we realized it was not the new-fallen snow_
But thoughts through our brain that continued to flow.
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,_
But a giant billboard recounting the year,__
With headlines flashing by ever so quick,_
We feared for a moment we just might be sick.
More rapid than eagles the headlines they came,_
Reminding us of the year past, frame by frame.
With the Redskins, paid parking, the Classic game rain,_
Furthur, Shakedown Street; it all seemed insane.
Springfield’s Historic District was turned down
For fear it would be just like nearby Cooperstown.
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,_
The events of the year continued to pass by.
The Springfield parade was ninety-nine this year,
Which means next year there will be reason to cheer.
The CCS capital project did not need a roof_
But the tied vote seemed rather a goof._
Some Hall of Fame hopefuls are not this way bound
While attempts are made to turn Hall attendance around._
It seems the elections did not make everyone merry,_