No Bah-Humbug in Bah-Stun–A Christmas Tribute to Our Beloved Mayor Menino

‘Twahs da night befah Chriztmaz, an all true da Hub,
Not a creecha wahs stehhin, nawt even atta pub;
Da stahkings wahs hung by da chimney wid cay-ah,
In hopez dat St. Nicholas soon wood be deyah;
Da khedz wahs nestled all snug in deyah bedz;
While pictchahs of shugah-plumz danced in deyah headz;
And Mah in hah ‘kahchief, and me in dungarees,
Had just settled dhawnz afta vizitin Dunkies,
When out in da gahden deyah roze such a frickin’ clattah,
Dat I sprung from the hoppah to zees what da hell wahs da mattah.
Called to the missus, but she just said, “Whateva!”
Toah open da shuttahs and wuz like, “No-suh – Santa in Dawchestah!”
Da moon on da breast of da new-fahllen snow,
Gave a lustre like jimmies on a hoodsie to evry ting blow,
Alls I knows what I seen, on Dot Ave it was cleeyah,
A frickin’ minna-chah slay and eight tiny rein-dee-ah,
Widda liddle old drivah so lively and quick,
Bizzah, but I nose foah sho-ah, dis must be St. Nick.
Moah pissa den eagles, like a Nor’eastah dey came,
Den he whistled, and showted, and cahlled’em by name:
“Now, Dashah! now, Dancah! now Prancah and Vixen! (Dis guy has a wicked Bah-stun accent lemme tell ya!)
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donnah and Blixen!
To da top ahda Monstah! to da top of da wahl!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
Like da leavz dat befoh a wicked hurricane flyze,
Dey banged a u-ey and mounted upta da skiez;
Upta da triple-deckah by da Gas Tank dey flew
Whiddah slay full ah doys, and St. Nicholahs too—
And den, dis wee-id noize, I heahz on my roof
Da prancing and pahwing of each liddle hoof.
As I drahs in my head, and wahs turning the cawna,
Downna chimney St. Nicholahs takes a digga onna conna (itz Christmas an-all, ya know what I mean?)
He wahs dressed all in fahr, from hess head to hess footz,
Ahnd hiz scahlly wahs all tah-nished wid ah-shes and soot;
Ah wicked bundle-a doyz he hahz flung on hiz bahck,
And he lookz like a peddlah just opening his pahk.
His eyez—how day dwinkled! his dimples, like ta-maydas!
His cheekz wahs like roses, his noze like a b’dayda!
His funny liddle moudt ed the wee-idest liddle scah,
An hiz beahd wahs as white as a bowl of clam chowdah;
Da ztump offa pipe he held tight in his deeth,
And da smoke, it fishbowled hiz head like a wreath;
He ed a big head and a little rownd belly
Dat chook when he lahffed, like a bagga gahbidge filled wid jelly, (ya know what I mean?)
He-wahs chubby and plump, ahwright jolly old elf,
And I lahffs when I seez him, indspite of myzelf;
Ahwink of hiz eye and a twist of his head
Like he’z saying, “Yah-huh,” – I haz nutting ta dread;
He speakz not a werrd, but goes straight to his wahk,
An fillz all da stahkings; den turnz widda a jehk,
Den stickin his fingah in-cidah hiz noze,
An noddin hiz-ed, up da chimney he roze;
Ee-jumpz in hiz slay, to hiz crew gave a whiztle,
An away day all fliez like a frickin’ bahlistic missile.
But I heahz him exclaim, ahz he drivez outta zight—
“Merry Christmas to Mumbles, and to all a wicked good night!”

Dedicated to Our Beloved Mumbles Befah He Leavez Office
ADAPTED FROM CLEMENT CLAHKE MOAH’S POEM