Yooper's Christmas

Twas da night before Christmas in dis yooper house,
and nuttin' was stirrin' not even da pet mouse.
Da rest of da family was all fast asleep,
Wit' visions of pasties delivered by jeep.

Da swampers was hung by da chimney wit care,
in hopes dat Saint Nicholas soon would be dere.
And in da far corner it was lovely to see,
da Pabst cans and cabbage dat hung from da tree.

Ma home from da mine and me out on parole,
she was snuggled in bed; I was perched on da bowl.
Then alluva sudden da house starts to shudder,
some nut's on da roof and he broke da rain gutter.

He jumps down da chimney and swears cause it's tight,
as I hide behind beer cases, way outta sight.
He lands in da fireplace scorching his hair,
on a busted up orange crate still burning in der.

He! climbs out da fireplace and I takes a look,
he's just like dey show him in my coloring book.
With vodka-glazed eyes and a stomach like a bubble,
a five-day-old beard and dere's soot in his stubble.

His teeth when he smile look like Grampa's weed-saw,
he wears Sorel boots big as grizzly bear's paw.
This old Yooper elf gives me nuttin' to fear,
as he heads for da kitchen for cookies and beer.

He kills off a six pack then belches and smirks,
and reaches in da sack, now he's ready for work.
Now under da tree he's starting to set,
the most beautiful presents us Yoopers can get.

Dere's a new Pastymatic and a snowblower for mother,
a Husqvarna chainsaw, and some swampers for brother.
Some mud flaps, a CB, and a new-used weed whacker
a helmet and nightshirt dat say Green Bay Packer.

He close up da sack and he jumps in da coals,
and hollering "Holy Wah" up the chimney he rose.
He grunted and groaned as he tossed out his bag,
and cracked such a beer fart I'm starting to gag.

I must watch him leave so I rushes outside,
looks up at da roof while in bushes I hide.
And what does I see when I looks through da twigs?
A rusty old Impala, pulled by eight pigs!

Santy jumped in and he gave 'em all hell,
Let's go all you's pigs, don't just sit dere and smell"
On Mushy, on Toivo, on Eino and Joe,
and all a you's others what names I don't know.

Fly over Negaunee and turn to da right,
We make Houghton-Hancock before it get light."
Den I hear him exclaim with a cynical sneer,
Pull in at dat Pabst sign, I run outta beer!"