A Christmas-time poem for yous

'Twas the night before Conference, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The scriptures were laid by the pillows with care,

In hopes that President Monson soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of bingo danced in their heads;

And I in my skivvies, and ma in her flannel,

Had been lying down, watching the REM channel.

When up from the desk, there arose such a clatter,

We sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away from the bed, we clumsily stumbled,

“Who the $%#! could that be,” I hastily mumbled.

The moon through the glass in the dark of midnight
Scattered deep shadows to keep the phone hid from sight.

When, what to our wondering ears came the sound,

Of “Who let the Dogs Out!”, blaring up from the ground
We jumped at the uproar and got a bit nervous.
Friends or family needing an ambulance service?!
We grabbed the phone to stop the sleep-breaking noise.
It is 1 am, I shouted into the void!
We stared down the display, trying to think through our stupor.
And what did we find? (You’re gonna think this is super)
Not a death, not a sickness, not disaster nor pain,

Not a neighbor, or baby, not Armageddon or rain.
To the side of the bed, to the top of the wall
Now silence them, silence them, silence them all!
On that bright screen, on that there LCD,
Was no plea for help, no one in great need.
They were dressed all in fur, from the head to the waist,

And their clothes were immaculate, not put on in great haste;

A picturesque view, they had at their back,

And they looked like some hikers just missing their pack.

Their eyes -- how they twinkled! Their dimples how merry!

Their cheeks were like roses, their noses like cherries!

Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the hair at his temples was as white as the snow;

She had a nice face; he, not much of a belly,

And they looked fairly clean, I would guess not too smelly.

They were familiar and happy, a right jolly old couple,

And I tried not to curse, in spite of the trouble;
We spoke not a word, but went straight back to sleep,
When the second text came, I started to weep.
Then pulling my hair in a frustrated pose,
And giving a shake, off the bed I arose
I looked at the pic, and turned to my wife,
Mom sure can use text, she wields it like a knife.
Then I heard her exclaim, as I shut off the light,
“If only we could get her not to use it ALL NIGHT”