Twas the night before Christmas...

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the flood Not a creature was stirring, not even a desticle, The PM's were hung by cozmo's thread with care, In hopes that Crazy Lincoln soon would be there; The flood were nestled all snug in their beds; While visions of gingers danced in their heads; And Deej, and Cozmo in his cap, Had just settled there brains for a long winter's nap, When out on the forums there arose such a clatter, Cozmo sprang from his bed to see what was the matter. Away to the computer He flew like a flash, Tore open the browser and threw up the screen; The light of the com on cozmo's chest; Gave a lustre of midday to destiny games below, When what to his wondering eyes did appear, But a miniature log house and eight tiny xboxdotcoms; With a little young driver so lively and quick, Cozmo knew in a moment he must be Crazy Lincoln more rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: "Now, Xbox now, Dot! now Com! and all of the Alts! To the top of the forum! to the top of them all Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!" As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky; So up to the PMs the coursers they flew With the sleigh full of nudes, and Crazylincoln too! And then, in a twinkling, He saw on his thread The prancing and pawing of each little debate! As he drew in his head, and was turning around, Down the forum Crazylincoln came with a bound. He was dressed all in tears, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with butthurt people. A bundle of nudes he had flung on his back, And he looked like a pedo just opening his pack. His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the beard on his chin was as brown as the shit which he spoke from his mouth. The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath; He had a broad face and a little round belly That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, And cozmo cried when He saw him, in spite of himself; A wink of his eye and a twist of his head Soon gave him to know Cozmo had nothing to dread; He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the PM's then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the forum he rose; He sprang to his cabin, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But He heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight— “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”