"Twas the night before August, when all thro' the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The speakers were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that the ARC Kit soon would be there!
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Blu-Ray discs danc'd in their heads,
And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long summer's nap-
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the newly mown heath,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects beneath;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a minature truck of Canadian beer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And install'd the upgrade; then turn'd with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose
And giving a nod, up'd the volume and rose.
He sprung to his truck, grabbed a beer, gave a whistle,
And away he sped off, like the down of a thistle:
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight-
Happy ARCing to all, and to all a good night!"
--Bob (can't teach an old doggerel new tricks) P.