Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the South
talk of a party was stirring, by word of mouth.
The koozies were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. SweetWater soon would be there.
The locals were nestled in Snuggies by their beds,
While visions of hop vines danced in their heads.
And Freddy in his seat, and I behind the tap,
Had just popped a coldie for a tasty night cap.
When out at the brewery there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bar to see who was the party crasher.
Away to the window I stumbled like a pro,
Tore open the door and tripped on a ho.
The moon on the breast of our new found friend
Gave the glow of mid-day like J-Lo’s rear end
When, what to my dilated eyes should appear,
But a lowridin sleigh, and eight groovy reindeer.
With a little old driver, with brews made to slaughter,
I knew in a moment it must be St. SweetWater.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he hooted, and hollered, and called them by name!
"Now Dasher! Now Blue,! now, IPA and Motorboat!
On, Comet! On, Brown! On Festive and Choate!
He bounced off the patio! Barely clearing the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away y’all!"
He was dressed in Gore Tex, like an REI pimp
All his clothes were breathable, withstanding all temps
A bundle of brew, bottle openers and a stash,
He looked like a bartender raking in the cash.
He was chubby and plump, a right beer bellied jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
Some red lines in his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I would party till bed.
He slurred a few words, but went straight to his work,
And stuffed all the stockings, this dude aint no jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a shout,
They were gone like Elin and half of Tiger’s bank account.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘as they burned out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
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