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'Twas the night before Christmas-AN style



My gift to you....

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through AN 

Not a poster was stirring, not even wacchampion

The CT's were posted by the Bloomie with care,

In hopes that St. Nico soon would be there;

danmerqury was nestled all snug in his bed,

While visions of Beltres danced in his head;

And Blez in his mansion, and I in my A's cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter's (meeting) nap,

When out on the field there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see who was the batter.

Away to the bleachers I flew like a flash(fire),

To see who dear Billy gave all our cash.

The lights on the bat of the newly-signed hero

Gave the lustre of mid-day to the big bat below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny ex-players,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Rickey.

More rapid than Lou Brock his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Rickey! now, Rickey! now, Rickey and Rickey!

On, Rickey! on Rickey! on, Rickey and Rickey!

To the top of Mt. Davis! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As homers that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with the marine layer, thick in the sky,

So up to the dugout, the Rickeys they flew,

With the sleigh full of Free Agents, and St. Rickey too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard the radio ring

The joking and jawing of our beloved Bill King

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down on the field St. Rickey came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his pants to his shirt,

And his clothes were all dirty from stealing from first

A bundle of much needed help he had flung on his back,

And he looked like he'd robbed Boras just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like Pete Rose's his nose like a cherry!

His smiling little mouth was drawn up like Charlie O,

And his cleats were of course as white as the snow;

The handle of a bat he held tight in his fists,

And the bases he encircled lickety-split;

He had a wrinkled face and he wasn't very tall,

His eyes crinkled when he laughed like a bobblehead doll.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me hope, for next season I'd nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled up the roster; not one player a jerk,

And gave the steal sign by laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, through the fog he arose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to the Rickeys gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like an IBM missile.

But I heard him exclaim, as he drove toward the heavens,

"Happy Holidays to all, and to all a great 2011"

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