‘Twas the night before Shipping Deadlines, when all through the Creek,
Every creature was packing, except for our IT geek;
The packages were stuffed in the bins with care,
In hopes that UPS soon would be here;
The LEGAL ADULTS were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of NPG danced in their heads;
Production was slaving in their lab, and I at my desk,
Had just settled down for an e-mail filled night,
When out in the field there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter!
Away to the doors I flew like a flash,
Ran out through the snow, expecting a crash!
Cold as it was, with my e-cig glowing blue,
wishing I was still at my desk, puffing off my pass through,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Johnson Creek truck, and eight tiny reindeer,
With our boss as the driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he was seriously impersonating St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his production crew came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by other names;
“Get to work now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the hill! To the top of the wall!
Now hurry! Dash away! Work faster all!”
As dry atomizers that cause curses to fly,
When they meet with a deadline, bottles piled high to the sky,
So up to the post office they flew,
With the truck full of orders, the boss riding shotgun too.
And then, in a rush, we found the door locked,
We all stood there looking more than a little shocked.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the sidewalk old St. Nick came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
An empty bag he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a robber, ready to fill his pack.
His eyes — how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
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 white as the snow;
The sight of a mini he held tight in his teeth,
And the vapor it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed 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 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 his bag with the orders; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, into the post office he rose;
The boss sprang back to his truck, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew down the street like a ballistic missile.
But I heard him exclaim, as we drove out of sight,
“Happy Holiday vaping to all, Santa sure bailed us out this night.”
An American Company
