Twas the night before Christmas and throughout the substation,
Not a deputy stirred, they were all on vacation.
The stockings were hung on the wall with great care,
Next to some T-shirts and old underwear.
I was working the night shift compiling stats,
Answering the phone, and feeding the rat.
When all of a sudden there arose such a clatter,
I leapt from my desk to see what was the matter.
I opened the door with a creak and a crick,
And saw a jolly red fat man I knew must be St. Nick.
I had seen his picture a time or two,
He was wanted: Article 27 - Section 342.
I threw open the door and commanded him "Freeze!"
"Put your hands on you head and get down on your knees."
But he turned and he ran, up the chimney he flew,
With me in pursuit, toward Booth St. I knew.
When we got to the roof Santa made for his sleigh,
Throwing down toys and blocking my way.
As I got to the peak, he threw down some crack,
I slipped and I fell landing flat on my back.
To my front I was faced with a toy M-1 tank,
And Pink Power Rangers covering my flank.
"On Dasher, on Dancer!", he cried loud and clear.
Then I got off three rounds and dropped the lead deer.
And I heard Santa say,
as he sailed into the blue,
"Merry Christmas to all!
My Lawyers will sue!"