The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the town,
Many creatures were buying such poisonous rounds.
Their stockings, with care, were pulled up to their thighs
And offered a treat for wandering eyes.

The children were nestled, all snug in their bars,
With dreams of an iPhone, computers and cars.
And mum in her onesie and I in my cap
Had just finished wrapping up all of the tat.

When out on the drive there arose such a clatter
I sprang to the porch to see what was the matter.
Back to the window I flew like a flash
And closed all the curtains and pulled down the sash.

By the moon behind clouds, I could only just see,
Objects on my driveway, familiar to me,
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But three drunken teens with a plastic reindeer.

With a little ring leader so lively and quick,
I knew in a flash whose reindeer they'd knicked.
More rapid than eagles, my anger soon came,
I whistled and shouted and called them some names.

"Now heathens, now youths, now terrible yobs,
Now ugly and frightening three-person mob!
Leave the reindeer in the drive or on top of my wall,
And dash away, Go away! Get away all!"

As Formula 1 cars race through the track,
They did not retreat, they did not step back,
And up to the house-porch the children soon flew
With tight glinting fists and the reindeer, too

And then, in an instant, I heard at the door,
Them banging and tapping and banging some more.
As I drew back from the window and was turning around,
The gentle twinkle and ringing of smashed glass did sound,

They were dressed all in black from their head to their feet
Through their black balaclavas our eyes they did meet.
The reindeer was bundled on the smallest ones' back,
But for their youth, I guessed they were on crack.

Their eyes, how they twinkled with what was to come,
One smelt distinctly of cheap, nasty rum.
Their chapped little lips were drawn up in a bow,
I was cornered and found I had no where to go.

The stump of a dog end was held in one's teeth,
And the smoke was hypnotic and smelt slightly sweet.
He had a closed little fist and a sparkling knife,
That glinted when he moved; a challenge to life.

They were scrawny and thin, a right sorry lot,
And I remained silent in the hope they would stop.
A wink of an eye and a twist of the head,
Soon gave me to know I had something to dread.

They spoke not a word and went straight to their work,
And filled all their pockets then turned with a jerk.
And putting a finger aside of their lips,
I knew that to make just a peep would mean chips.

They sprang from the house through the broken glass shards,
And ran like the wind through my empty front yard.
But I heard one exclaim, like a sinister sprite;
"Merry Christmas to all! And to all a Good night!"