St. Nick Visits the Salesgirl

[Niki1 2]

I know it's a little late but I just ran across this in an old trunk of old stuff. I would guess that it came from the a newspaper colunm in Birmingham, Ala. in the early 1940s. It sounds like the dialect is from NYC so I have no idea what it was doing in a southern paper. I don't know who wrote it but I guess I should offer appologies to Clemment Moore.


St. Nick Visits the Salesgirl

‘Twas the night before Christmas when all through the flat
Not a creature was stirrin’ (include me in that)
My stockin’s a little the worse for the wear,
Was hung on the back of a three-legged chair;
Outside snow was fallin’ in beautiful flakes,
But I didn’t care – I was too full of aches;
I’d worked in a store through the holiday strife,
And was plannin’ to sleep for the rest of my life,

When up from the airshaft there came such a clatter
I leaped out of bed to see what was the matter;
(I thought at the time ‘twas a nut down one flight,
Who starts up his radio late every night;
So I went to the window and loudly did cry,
“Is this Christmas Eve or the Fourth of July?”

When what to my dead-with-sleep eyes did appear
But a hinky-dink sleigh and eight tiny reindeer!
And who should be drivin’ right up to the door
But one of them masquerade guys from the store!
I said to myself, “What can be this guy’s game?”
When he clucked to his reindeer and called ‘em by name;
Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now Prancer! Now Vixen!
On Comet! On Cupid! In Donder and Blitzen!”
An’ just as I’m dopin’ what next he will do,
Right up to the housetop the whole outfit flew!

And then in a twinklin’ I heard on the roof
The prancin’ and pawin’ of meat on the hoof;
(Just imagine my feelings, with sleep nearly dead
And some sap with an animal act overhead!)
As I drew in my neck and was turnin’ around,
Down the chimney my visitor came with a bound;
A big bag of junk he displayed with a grin,
And he acted to me like he’d like to move in.
He was chubby, good-natured and oozin’ with glee,
But I ask you dear reader, what was it to me?
The point that I make it ‘twas then 2 o’clock,
And a man in my room without stoppin’ to knock!

I was thinkin’ how noivy he was and how slick
When he says to me, “Lady, I’m only St. Nick.”
Well, a poor tired store slave in no mood for fun,
I gave him a look and I asked him, “Which one?”
“As a Christmas rush salesgirl,” I said “you’ll agree
That a look at St. Nick is no big treat to me;
This had gone far enough and this bunk’s gotta stop—
Take the air with them goats or I’ll yell for a cop!”

He spoke not a word but went on with his work,
And filled up my stockin’s then turned with a jerk.
And layin’ a finger aside his red nose,
And givin’ a nod, up the airshaft he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh with a shake of his head,
And I pulled the shades down and fell into bed.
“Merry Christmas!” he called as away his deers fflew,
And I just gave a yawn and I answeres, “Sez you!”

Most of the things worth doing in the world had been declared impossilbe before they were done.
Louis D Brandeis

Where are we going and why are we in this basket?

[Andy0689 0]

I thought this was going to be some sort of hot, sexy story. The title does sound porn-ish.

Andy
I'll believe it when I see it on YouTube!

[BillyVance 35]

Quote

I thought this was going to be some sort of hot, sexy story. The title does sound porn-ish.

Yeah, I just wasted 5 seconds reading the OP...

"Mediocre people don't like high achievers, and high achievers don't like mediocre people." - SIX TIME National Champion coach Nick Saban