A Jazzbo Night Before Christmas
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the pad
Not a hepcat was swinging, and that’s nowhere, dad.
The stove was hung up in the stocking routine
In hopes that the fat man would soon make the scene.
The kids had all had it, so they hit their sacks,
And me and the bride had begun to relax,
When there started a rumble that came on real frantic,
So I opened the window to figure the panic.
I saw a square short
that was makin’ fast tracks
Bein’ pulled by eight dogs who were wearin’ hat racks,
And a chubby old geezer was flippin ‘ his lid-
He told ‘em to “make it,” and man, like, they did!
I couldn’t help diggin’ the scene on the roof
As I stood there just waitin’ for chubby to goof.
They stood by the chimney in bunches and clusters,
Till chubby slid down, comin’ on like gang-busters.
His threads were the squarest, and I just had to chuckle:
In front, not in back, was his Ivy League buckle!
The mop on his chin hid his button-down collar,
And with that red nose, man, he looked like a baller.
Like, he was the squarest, the most absolute,
But face it, who cares, when he left all that loot?
He laid the jazz on me and fled from the gig,
Wailin’, “Have a cool Yule, and, man, later, like, dig!”