Lenora's Fiction Archive

Twas a Monkee Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas,
and all through the pad,
Not a creature was stirring,
not even Micky's pet mouse.

Their instruments were placed
by the porch with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas
wouldn't trip over them there.

The Monkees were all snuggled up tight in their beds
while visions of paying gigs danced through their heads,
And Mike in his kerchief, and Peter in his cap
they're all settled down for a long Monkee nap.

When out on the beach there arose such a clatter
they all fell from their beds and ran to see what was the matter,
Away to the porch they flew like four flashes,
tore open the doors and fell out on the grasses.

When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
but a miniature speedboat and eight waterskiing reindeer,
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
they knew in a Monkee moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than the Monkee mobile, Santa and his deer came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name,
"Now Hoo, Ev3a, AutumnTree, Torka -- heads up!
"Now Mystic, Mehli, Niteshade, Brad -- backs straight!"

To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Now ski away! Ski away! Ski away all!
So up to the pad top the speedboat and skiiers flew,
with a boat full of toys and St. Nicholas too.

Then in an instant they heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of the deer's little hooves.

"Babbit's gonna be ticked about this!" cried Mike

As they walked in the pad and turned around & around
Down the spiral staircase came Santa, sliding down.

He was dressed in swim trunks and Hawaiian shirt
and he wore sandals and his hair was crew cut short,
A bundle of gifts he had slung on his back,
and he looked like a beach bum opening his sack.

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the beard on his chin was as white as pure snow,
The stub of a cigar he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a round belly,
that shook and fell out of his swim trunks when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly,
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
and they laughed when they saw him, even Mike laughed in spite of himself.

A wink of his eye, a twist of his head,
soon told them there was nothing to dread,
He said not a thing but went straight to work,
set out all their gifts and turned with a jerk.

And laying a finger aside of his nose
and giving a nod, back up the stairs he rose,
He sprang to his speedboat and to his skiiers gave a whistle,
and away they flew like the down on a thistle.

But they heard him sing as he sped out of sight,

"Monkee Christmas to all and to all a good night!"

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Created by Lenora McCoy

Last updated 18 JUN 98

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