The Night Before Christmas Boston Style

T'was the night before Christmas... When all through the house, not a Boston was stirring, he just slept on mom's blouse. The stocking was hung by the Boston with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas had milkbones to share. The Boston was nestled all snug in his bed, while visions of pig ears danced in his head. And mamma in her kerchief and a Boston on my lap, had just settled down for a long winter's nap. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, the Boston ran barking and caused ears to shatter. Away to the window the Boston did dash, he was jumping and barking - his teeth even gnashed. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave the lustre of mid-day to tennis balls below. When what to our wondering eyes should appear, but a little green sleigh and what appeared to be deer. With a fat little man all dressed up in red, when the Boston spied him he ran under the bed. The Boston crazies had nothing on this guy, as they flew o'er the house and landed nearby. He hollered and shouted and yelled out their names, Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer, and Vixen, on Comet, on Cupid, on Donder, and Blitzen! To the top of the eave and over the wall, and he landed quite neatly, avoiding a ball. And then in a twinkling we heard on the roof, the prancing and pawing, and the Boston said WOOF! I drew in my hand, and wiped my forehead, the Boston still barking peeked out from the bed. Santa had come down the chimney with a bound, the Boston got quiet, he didn't make a sound. Santa's eyes started twinkling and he grinned ear to ear, then I heard his gruff voice as he whispered quite clear "and what do you want my sweet little boy, a greenie, a tennis ball, a nice squeaky toy?" He reached down and patted the Boston on his head, then turned to the mantle and nodded his head. "I know what you want" he whispered again, "I'll set it right here, my cute little friend." The Boston was wiggling his butt in delight, and as Santa bent over you could've heard a flea bite. Then suddenly kisses were rained on his face, which Santa was quick to accept and embrace. Then setting the Boston back onto the ground, he turned to me, winked, and then turned back around. He patted the Boston once more on the head, then back up the chimney he quickly sped. Again hearing clatter and prancing of hoof, we ran to the window and looked up at the roof. As we watched this old elf and his deer take flight, we heard him exclaim just as clear as daylight...

Contributed by Betty Ann Manganello and Joan Stark