'Twas the night before Cocktailmas, and all through the house;
Not a cocktail was mixed not even an ounce;
The bottles were placed by the chimney with care
In hopes that St. Cocktailmas soon would be there,
The kiddos were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of presents danced in their heads;
Ma in her PJs and I in my cap,
Had just settled in for a sober winter's nightcap,
When down in the den there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the stairs I flew in a flash
Throwing on my robe and combing out my stash
The moon shown bright on newly fallen snow,
Gave the luster of midnight to objects below
When, what to my eyes should magically appear,
But a tipsy old man, drunk, smiling from ear to ear
With glee in his laugh so lively with class
I knew in that moment it must be St. Cocktailmas.
He spoke not words but went straight to his work.
Mixing, testing, tasting, till he turned with a jerk
Extending his hand in front of his face
He gave me a thumbs up and skedaddled my place
Stumbling to his sleigh, to his team he gave cheer
And away they flew, far from near
But I heard him exclaim, as he rode out of sight,
