The Pecan Park Eagle

Christmas Eve in Houston – at each and every house,

Not a fan’s wish was deferring – this year had been a louse.

Their new dreams were now hung – by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Superman – soon would be there.

 

The sports fans were soft-nestled – all snug in their beds,

While visions of sweet victory – danced in their heads.

And mamma in her Texans jersey – and I in my Astros cap,

Had just liquified our brains – for a long winter’s nap.

 

When out on the lawn – there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from our bed – to investigate the matter.

Away to the window – I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters – and threw up the sash.

 

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen rain

(The stuff doesn’t freeze here. – Do I need to explain?)

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh – and eight tiny reindeer.

 

With a handsome young driver – so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment – shoulda’ brought my best BIC!

More rapid than eagles – his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

 

“Now, Astro! – Now, Texan! – Now, Rocket! – Now Go, Dy-Na-Mo!

On, Cougar! – On, Rice Owl! ! – On Tiger! – All-The-Rest-You-Know!

To the top of the porch! – To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away 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 the sleigh full of Dreams – and Superman too.

 

And then, in a twinkling – I heard on the roof,

The prancing and pawing – of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head – and was turning around,

Down the chimney – St Super – he came with a bound.

 

He was dressed all in blue – with a very red cape,

And his clothes were all tarnished – with ashes and soot.

A bundle of Dreams – he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler – just opening his pack.

 

His eyes – how they riveted! – His smile? – not so merry!

But his cheeks were like roses – and his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth – was drawn into a crack!

And the curl on his forehead – was ebony black.

 

The stump of a pipe – he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke – it encircled – his head like a wreath.

He had a long face – and six-guns for ABS,

A real man of steel – why the smoking man tabs?

 

“The smoke that you see – isn’t coming from me,

It escapes from the dreams that you seek.

As long as dreams tie – to that look in your eye,

Your chances – for glory – are bleak.”

 

He said nothing else – but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings – then turned like a jerk.

And laying his hand – aside of his nose,

He nodded goodbye – as his middle finger rose!

 

He sprang to his sleigh – to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew – like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim – ‘ere he drove out of sight,

“Happy Christmas to all – and to all – a good-night!”

 

“On, Springer! – On, Keenum!

On, Ching! – And On, Howard!

Bring True Grit to Houston!

We’ve no room for cowards!”

                                                                                                                                                       

 

Tags: Christmas parody

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