The Site Before Christmas
by Aaron Robinson
'Twas the Site Before Christmas, when all through the
house
no hardware was stirring not even a mouse.
The stockings were all hung by the computer with care
in the hope that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The pages were nestled all snug in their webs,
while visions of sugarplums danced in their <heads>.
And Mamma in her kerchief and I in my cap,
Had just shutdown our processors for a long winters nap.
When out on the desktop there arose such a clatter,
I sprung from the bed to see what was the matter,
Away to Windows I flew like Flash,
Tore open the menues and hoped nothing would crash
The light on my desk and what the screen would now show
Gave the luster of midday to icons below.
When what to my web browser should appear,
But a digital sleigh and eight ASCII reindeer,
With an up-to-date driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Cyber St. Nick.
More rapit that Eagle his coursers they came,
And he whistles and beeped and callet them by name:
"Now Dasher! now, Dancer!, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the screen! to the top of the firewall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As pop-ups on some anoying web pages fly
When they met with an obstical, mount to the sky,
So up to the page-tops the cources they flew,
With a sleigh fill of games and Cyber St. Nicholas too.
And then with a twinkleing, I heard from the sub-woof'
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was about to shut-down
Down the nav-bar Cyber St Nicholas came with a bound.
He had pixels like fur from his header to his footer
And his clothes were all tarnished from my poor quality monitor
A bundel of games he flung on his back
And he looked like a server ready to open a packet
His eyes - how they twinkeled, his pixels, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth, drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white value="#000000".
The stump of a pipe, he still kept with himself
Even though he quit smoking (it's bad for your health).
He had a broad face and a circle-tool belly,
that shook when he laughed like virtual jelly.
He was FAT32, a right jolly old elf,
And I Laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a scroll of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He printed not a word, but went straight to the network
And filled all the sectors: then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod up the nav-bar he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle.
And away they all flew like like a query in SQL
But I heard him exclaim ere drove off the web site
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
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