'Twas the (Whovian) Night Before Christmas

This is a little something I cobbled together a couple of years ago for family and friends.  I thought it appropriate to dust it off and put it out there for others to enjoy, especially with the upcoming regeneration. 
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'Twas the (Whovian) Night Before Christmas

or A Visit from St. Nicholas
by Clement Clarke Moore

(with some doctoring by John L. Harmon)

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the flat
not a creature was stirring, not even a Cybermat.
The Daleks were hiding by the chimney with care,
in hopes that the Doctor soon would be there.

The kitties were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of canned food danced in their heads.
And Sister in her nightgown, and I in my sweats,
had just settled our brains for a long winter's breath.

When out on the lawn there arose such a wheezin’,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the reason.
Away to the window I swam like a bass,
tore open the curtains, and pressed my nose to the glass.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should show,
but a rackety blue box and eight companions in tow.

With an old/young driver, so lively and odd,
I knew in a moment it must be a Time Lord.
More rapid than yeti, his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

"Now Ian! Now Barbara!
Now, Zoe and Jamie!
On, Tegan! On, Turlough!
On, Rory and Amy!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now Zig-Zag! Zig-Zag!
Zig-Zag Plotter all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
with a TARDIS full of rooms, and the Doctor too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the grinding and wheezing of each materialization poof.
As I withdrew my head and was turning around,
down the chimney the Doctor came with a bound.

He was dressed like a geek, from his head to his foot,
and his suspenders were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of alien gadgets he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll big chin was drawn up with a bow-tie,
and the fez on his head was the color of strawberry pie.

The stump of a sonic screwdriver he held tight in his teeth,
and the light it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a long face and very little belly,
but it shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of Jelly Babies.

He was tall and thin, a right goofy Time Lord,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his fez
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
neutralizing all the Daleks, then turned with a smirk.
And laying his sonic screwdriver aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his TARDIS, to his companions gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he dematerialized out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a Whovian night!"

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Farewell 11...

Click LIBRARY for more adventures in space and time.

Be well and Freak Out,

JLH