’Twas the week before Christmas,
when all through the town
Santa was trying not to fall down.
The sleigh had been filled;
the elves all on break.
Santa took to the streets.
There was merry to make.
I had wondered myself
how one guy and one sleigh
pulls off world distribution
all on one day.
But now that I’ve seen
the Santa Pub Crawl,
I know just how Santa
conquers it all.
It’s true what they say:
Santa’s jolly, all-knowing.
But the guy’s basic secret
is actually cloning.
Last Saturday night,
the streets were a-swim
with not one red clad Santa—
but hundreds of him!
They wandered the city
by pick-up and bike.
Neither slick roads nor snow
impeded their hike.
They dropped by the jazz bar,
Basque club, and casino,
filled 29 bars in downtown Reno.
With elves and Santas,
the thruways were thick,
and I learned a few things
about old Saint Nick.
He works hard, as they say.
He’s crafty and arty.
But when chores are done,
Man, Santa can party!
He may wear a toga, so debonair.
He sometimes sports fishnets.
He could have green hair.
Sometimes he’s a pirate
loot and all, matey.
He may dress in drag;
He might be a lady!
But compared to Ms. Claus,
Santa’s fashion’s a flop.
She bought her red suit
at the lingerie shop.
At nightclubs and bars,
Santa sings out of tune.
He sips a Bud Light.
He howls at the moon.
So many temptations.
Will he stay in line?
I think I heard Santa
say, “Hey what’s your sign?”
Santa and pals frolic—
a lot.
They smile for reporters.
They pose for group shots.
Ol’ Santa cuts loose
but just once a year.
His ulterior motive
(besides his own cheer)
is to rouse up some funds
for Nevada Food Bank.
This year, it was nearly three grand
Hey, Santa, Thanks!
So, back to the North Pole,
for one more night cap,
two Alka-Seltzers,
and then a quick nap.
He must clock back in,
ready for the big flight;
fill his sack up with coal,
um, I mean toys. Right.