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A yinzer’s Night Before ‘Chrismis’

PTRD3Wos122015
JOE WOS
PTRD3Wos122015
JOE WOS

Editor’s note: A tradisshunle hawiday pome, adapted and translated into Pittsburghese.

Twas the night before Chrismis and all through dahtahn

Not a creature was stirrin, weren’t no one arahn!

The stockings needed hung by the chimley with care,

Ahnachanta Saint Nicklas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of progis raced in their heads,

And mawm in her babushka and me in my hat,

Had just settled dahn for a long winner n’at;

When ahtside I heard a noise on the lawn,

I sprung from my bed to see whawas goin on.

To the baffroom window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shudders and threw up the sash.

My neckstore neighbor was aht with his cat,

I shahted at him — “Quit bein nebby n’at.”

When what to my ooglin’ eyes I seen there,

But a miniature sleigh, moving my parking chair!

With a little old driver and a toy-filled bag,

I knew in a moment it that he weren’t no jag.

More rapid than the Penguins his reindeer came,

And he whistled and shahted and called them by name:

Now Dawny! Now Rawny! Now Prancer and Vixen!

On Cawmet! On Cupid! On Dahnder and Blitzen!

To the top of the stoop, to the top of the wall,

Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!

Like a football thrown by Rothelsberger flies

Off into the distance and up to the skies.

So up to the ruff the reindeers they flew,

With the buggy full of toys and Saint Nicklas too!

And then, a racket, I heard on the ruff

The prancin and stompin of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning arahn,

Downa chimley Saint Nicklas came with a bahn!

He was dressed in black and gold

From his head to his foot,

And his clodhoppers were tarnished

With ashes and soot.

A bundle of toys he had brung in his sack,

He was round and jolly, like Rick Sebak!

His eyes how they twinkled, his dimples how merry,

His nose round and red, like a fresh farkleberry.

His face lit up with a bew-d-ful smahl,

And the beard of his chin waved

Like a Terrible Tahl.

He smoked like a still mill with a pipe in his teeth,

And the smoke circled his head, arahn like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a jigunda belly that shook when he laft like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby n’at, a rill jolly old elf

And I laft when I saw him, in spite a myself.

A wink of his eye and a fluff of his beard

Soon let me to know, I need not be askirred.

He dittint say nuffin, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.

And beside his nose he placed his thumb,

And just lie-gat, up the chimley he clum!

He sprung to the ruuf and flew off in his sleigh,

I hollered aht to him “Don’t take the parkway!”

And I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,

Happy Chrismis to yinz, and to yinz …Go Stillers!

Joe Wos, a freelance writer and cartoonist, is the pop culture correspondent for WESA.

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