T’was the night before,They came without a sound, Scurrying across the yard, In little green pointed hats, Barely visible above frost covered blades of grass.
Doors and windows tightly latched, To keep out the cold and the damp, Did not hamper their entry nor bar their path.
With ruthless elegance and terrible grace, They found the milk and three delicate cakes, And finished them off with a quick snap and gulp of many sharp teeth.
They liked the cake, And they liked the milk, But that is not why they had come. No, they had come for the little ones.
Sensing their quarry, fast asleep in bed, They swarmed into the quarters aloft, Shaking with excitement they scampered and crawled, To the first room that held a child, tender and soft.
Slowly they clawed open the door, Careful not to make even the slightest of sound. Her serene breaths, so thick and sweet, Were lapped up with eager tongues, gleefully.
Working quickly now they infested her bed, And with a single rough whisper, Wrapped her mind in a web.
As they raised their blades to sever her soul, They faltered in their task ever so. For a fear grew in their dark awareness, That sent their black hearts into distress.
A faint jingling seeped into the air, Freezing them in a wide eyed scare, And as they helplessly glared, A ghostly form appeared to their despair.
He was as large and round as specters do come, With a hint of red and pale white hair, A grand wisp of long timeless beard, most handsome.
Floating beside the bed, To free the girl from the spell most foul, The spirit gently touched her upon head.
He then reached into his great pockets, As deep as the universe, above and below, And pulled out eight tiny horned bears, Each one wearing a tiny red bow.
With a predator’s grace they each took into their jaws, The immobilized creatures with spine crunching bites and deadly paws, And having finished their grave duty, Laid at their master’s feet the grisly booty.
The specter, he grinned, with a proud nod, As he rewarded his pets with a gentle prod, And took each of the bodies in his large phantom hands, For they would soon form something grand.
He kneaded and crushed and pulled and squeezed The little forms into something a bit more pleasing. When he was finished he had before him a collection Of bright boxes filled with happiness and joy, He then gave to the horned bears the boxes so dear, To place for the young ones to find with smiles and cheers.
With his work all done, And all done well, He drifted out through the walls, To the faint sound of jingle bells.
With a sniff and a rub of his snout, He mumbled to no one in particular, “Merry Christmas to all, And to all an elf free night.”