Here is a Christmas greeting that was sent to me and I thought I would share it with all of you.
Hope everyone has a Happy and safe Holiday season and a Very good New Year.

Loretta


DARS NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
by James Gartrell (butchering the original by Clement Clarke Moore)

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all across the range
Not a rocket was launching, it seemed sort of strange;

The rockets were stored on their displays with care,
In hopes that Old Vern soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of rocket flights danced in their heads;

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Knocked over the Mega Baron and stepped on my Scortch,
Moved aside my rockets and stepped out on the porch.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of a Sparky motor, oh what a glow,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, powered by a Sky Ripper,

With a little old driver, from Estes we learned,
I knew in a moment it must be Old Vern.

More rapid than a Roadrunner G-80 his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Royce! now, Marissa! now, Don and Terri!
On, Sam! on James! on, Tim and Cheri!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As fast as a minimum diameter on a K-motor will fly,
From the base of the launch pad, it zooms to the sky,

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of rockets and motors, and Old Vern too.



And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The spewing and spurting of nitrous oxide, poof.

As I stepped back in the house, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Old Vern came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of High Power and Sport Rocketry was flung over his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

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 little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
In his hands, a Hawks Hobby Snooper for myself;

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 filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, and switched on the relayer,
And counted down to start and took off like an O-motor.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he blasted out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-flight."

 

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