‘Twas The Night Before Mardi Gras

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‘Twas the night before Mardi Gras, when all through the house,

Not a single app was stirring, not even a mouse,
The jockstraps were hung by the bedroom with care,
In hopes that a random man soon would be there.

All the gays were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Danni danced in their heads,
And mamma in weave, and I in my hood,
Had just settled in after watching reruns of ‘Into the Woods’.

When out on the street there arose a man from the gutter,
I sprang from my 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 new-fallen dew,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects so new,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a Man of brute force and eight handy twinks.

With a big buzzing Harley so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must have a big prick!
More rapid than eagles, eight boy butts they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and he called them by name ;

“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen!
Oh Comet! Oh Cupid! Oh Donner and Blitzen!”
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall he ploughed through them all,
“Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the housetop the leather man flew,
With a bag full of toys, and a harness sling too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pounding of each little hoof,
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Harley Man came with a bound.

He was dressed all in leather, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with wetstuff and soot,
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a porn star just opening his pack.

His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose was a bit pash rash cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as he made my bits grow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath,
He had a broad face and a huge round knob,
That danced when he laughed, like a frantic hand job.

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread,
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled my Durex stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose.

Giving a nod, up the chimney he rose,
He sprang to his bike, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight —

“Happy Mardi Gras to all, and to all a good night!”