Night Before Christmas Winery Style!

Twas the night before Christmas, 

By Mrs. Claus aka Cindy Young

When all through the Hollow
Not a wine glass was stirring, not even one swallow!
The bottles were stacked on the wood racks with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The winos were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Wildberry Zin danced in their heads!
The Wine Wench in her kerchief and I in my cap
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the pergola there arose such a clatter,
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 pond with its new-fallen snow
Gave a luster of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick;
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than hawks his coursers they came.
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now Daddy! Now Char! Now Malbec and Zin!
On Papa! On Pinot! On Girls and Sangi!
To the bottom of the drive, and into the hall!
Now, drink away, drink away, drink away all!”

As sure as it’s written, the deer sipped away,
Jesting and laughing, the Sand Hollow way.
Then up to the housetop the coursers they flew,
With a wine buzz on, and tipsy Santa, too!

And then in a twinkling, I heard on our roof
The prancing and pawing of each relaxed hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to boot tips,
And his clothes were all stained from wine dribbles and drips.
A bundle of bottles he had flung on his back,
Just like a jolly vintner toting wine in a sack.

His eyes how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like Raspberry, his nose like White Zin.
His droll little mouth was drawn up in a bow,
And the beard on his chin was splashed with Merlot!

The rim of his glass he held tight in his teeth,
And the wine’s glow encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and looked a bit forelorned
When he laughed, his belly jiggled like Jim’s popcorn.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon told me he liked all the Italian red!

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Filling stockings with goodies made right in Newark.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
He took one last sip, then up the chimney 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 as he drove out of sight,
Merry Christmas to all, and free wine to all tomorrow night!”