Twas The Night Before Tucows

(I got a poem from Lucy for Christmas and — with her permission — I’m sharing it here)

Twas the night before Tucows, launched their domains,
Ken Schafer was stirring, simply going insane;
The plans were all there, displayed on his macable,
In hopes that domains, will soon be unhackable;

The macs were all snoozing, with screen savers in sight,
While visions of starbursts, were haunting him all night;
With Ken in his office, and Elliot abroad,
He was checking the URLs that seamed slightly odd,

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
Ken sprang from his desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the window he flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the slush, that covered Mowat,
Gave a dinghy appearance to objects below it,
When, what to his wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight cows, instead of reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
Ken knew in a moment it must be St. Click.

More rapid than elephants his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Betsy! now, Martha! now, Ilsa and Daisy!
On, Patches! on Ellie! on, Moo Moo and Lazy!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now clop away! clop away! clop away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an awkward, mount to the sky,

So up to the office roof the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of hard drives, and St. Click too.

And then, in a twinkling, he heard on the roof

The stomping and Clacking of each little hoof.
As Ken drew in his hand, and was turning around,
Down the heating vent St. Click came with a bound.

He was dressed all in red, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of hard drives he had flung on 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 truffle,
And the beard of his chin was as white as his shuffle;

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,
And Ken laughed when he saw him, in spite of himself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave Ken to know he had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the offices; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the heating vent he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, 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,


This is the second Internet/Ken-related poem I’ve been fortunate enough to receive, following my mom’s poem a few years ago.