With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore:
'Twas weeks before Christmas, when all through my house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were thrown in the basket sans care,
In hopes that the Laundry Fairy soon would be there;
My neighbors were definitely not in their beds,
As they were having a party up over my head;
As their laughter continued and the tunes tuned to rap,
I found it impossible to settle into my nap,
When outside the window there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Across the apartment I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The sun had not set on the street filled with cars
As witnesses stood with their jaws wide ajar,
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
Some moron climbing up in festive party gear.
“What the heck!?” says I, (an original retort),
“What you are doing is worth a report!
“For not so kosher or safe is your plan,
To bedeck and bedazzle our place, to make glam.”
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And strung all the lights; then turned (what a jerk!),
Then laying a “finger” on the bridge of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the escape swiftly he rose;
He sprang to his ledge, to his friends gave a whistle,
And at the party they grooved and "threw down" some tinsel.
But I heard him exclaim, a lot through that night,
"Merry Christmas to all, ‘cuz now it’s just right."
Seriously. That's the view from my fire escape. You can't make this stuff up people.
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