Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the poop
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with dung,
In hopes that St. Shit soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their crap,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my toilet,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a doodoo,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a poo,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen shit
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering nose should I smell,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny turds.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Shit.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now poop away! Shit away! Crap away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the feces.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St. Shit poo.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little bowel movement.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Shit came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with feces and pee.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like he had constipation, just trying to relax.

His stomach-how it growled! his dimples how foul!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as brown as the excrement.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he shat, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old cow pie,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye 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 stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his bum,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he poo-ed!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a fart,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Merry Christmas everyone!