Not a creature was stirring,
not even a French mouse;

The Palm Pilots were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Pournelle soon would be there;

The children (Landon and Danielle) were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of I-Macs danced in their heads;

And Marcia in her 'kerchief, and Brian in his cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Bob sprung from the bed (locked and loaded) to see what was the matter.

Away to the window Bo flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

When, what to Matt's wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature SPARC, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old dll driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick (aka Jerry).

More rapid than Deep Blue his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

Now, Doucette! Now, Bowman! Now, Tucker! and VAXen!
On, Crider! On Farquhar! On, Beland! and Svenson!

To the top of Chaos Manor! To the top of Syroid Manor!
(OK Tom, so I don't 'right' very well. But the dog ate my spill checker)
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!

Shawn sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave whistle,
And away they all flew like down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!"

With apologies to Clement C. Moore and anyone who I
inadvertently left out or offended (now or anytime this past year - Peace)