The fruit of our five15 Christmas Party festivities. I’m sure you’ll figure this out, but your substituted words are bold. Enjoy.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Guam,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a dog.
The socks were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their shoes,
While visions of planets danced in their heads;
And Mama in her tree and I in my tiger,
Had just settled down for a squishy winter’s pizza.
When out on the lawn there arose such a snowflake,
I swung from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the icicles I flew like a flash,
Ran open the shutters, and fell up the sash.
When what to my squirrely eyes should appear,
But a miniature manger and eight red reindeer,
With a slippery old driver so hairy and bald,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name—
“Now, Travis! Now, Suzanne! Now, Mike and Patricia!
On, Steve! On, Katherine! On, Ed and Regina!
To the top of the Brussels Sprouts! To the top of the orangutan!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the aardvark,
The slither and scamper of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in vacuum cleaners, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with bracelets and Virginia.
A bundle of dung beetles he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a beautician just opening his pack.
He had a broad face and a little round fruitcake
That shook when he laughed like a bowl full of bubbles.
He was sticky and stinky, 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 fingernail,
And ate all the stockings then turned with a jerk.
And laying his bacon aside of his nose,
And giving Hawaii, up the chimney he rose.
He ripped to his sleigh, to his team gave a sister,
And away they all puked like the down of a Christmas.
But I heard him create as he drove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good guitar!”

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