Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

‘Twas the night before Christmas, When all through the house, Not a creature was stirring, Not even a cluck from Chicken, Warming by the hearth, Until wooden, good-luck Rabbit, Stirred on the top shelf of the bookcase And parachuted, by silk-handkerchief, To the ground. ‘Ready,' Rabbit said to Chicken. ‘You bet. Let’s go!’ With that, Chicken was off to the garden, Her chum wheezing heavily to keep up. The other creatures had already gathered. The party was on, sprinkled with freshly falling snow Lit by New Moon, winking between the trees, Fed by Squirrel’s Stores and watered by Stream, (Who was still managing to avoid Ice.) With music provided by the Dove chorus, They danced into Christmas.

  'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house           All the creatures were stirring, including the mouse.           The moths in the stocking that hung by the fire           Were the biggest e’re seen in the whole of the Shire           But down from the bookshelf, there came such a clatter           They dashed here and there; it had made them all scatter,           For the books had collapsed and the booklice were bitter.           The bats up the chimney, they set up a twitter           The beetles came wriggling out of the wool           Wher...