Twas four days before Christmas, and at Camp McCarty
Everyone was arriving, for the holiday party.
They came to ole Bellbrook, without any care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

Our friends had arrived, and joined beer, wine, and liquor,
(Remember beer before wine, or never sick quicker).
Drunken elves as my guests, and I as Kris Kringle,
For a night to imbibe, and to frolic, and mingle.

When out on the deck there arose such a clatter,
I came out from the pub to see what was the matter.
Away to the hot tub to view the upheaval,
Just drinking (as punishment)… for the liver is evil.

The moon on the faces of the newest arrivals,
Gave a feeling of hope, like religious revivals.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, just chocked full of beer.

The sleigh’s jolly driver, his height below seven,
I knew in a moment; it was really just Kevin.
Assistance he needed, avoiding party paralysis,
His drinking teams selected by statistical analysis!

“Now, Perry! Now, Judy! Now, Duane and Dawn!
On, Jay! On, Teresa! On, Brandice and John!
To the top of the stairs! To the floor of the pub!
I started at 9 o’clock this morning… and that’s really the rub!”

Like drunks before the wild hurricane drink,
When they meet with an obstacle, throw up in a sink.
So up through the party house, the drinkers they went,
With the sleigh full of beer, and got really bent.

And then in a twinkling, I heard in the house,
The prancing and giggling of each little souse.
As I drew in my head, and was turning about,
Down the chimney, came Granny, with nary a shout.

He was dressed all in black, from his foot to his head,
Marriage won’t change him; Jennifer was once to have said.
With a glass of champagne, of which he was fond,
He looked like a spy, or maybe, James Bond.

The guests how they twinkled! With the dimples of Mary!
Their cheeks were like roses, it got kind of scary!
And then in a loud voice (though it could have been Joe),
Santa arrived at the party, with his hair white as the snow.

“Who’s naughty? Who’s nice? Who’ll be needing a driver?
Where’s Billy? Where’s Mike? And where is the Diver?
On my nice list, only Stephwinkle, made it over the hump,
At least she almost did, but then I heard, that she didn’t vote Trump!”

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I thought in my mind, he’ll not fit on a shelf!
Bellbrook is so special, Santa thinks it’s the best,
He calls it the San Diego, of the Midwest.

He spoke not another word, but went straight for a beer,
With this reindeer on strike, it had been a rough year.
And laying his finger just inside his nose,
And giving a nod, Jim Harbaugh’s present he chose!

He drank quite a lot, was a bit of a goober,
Yet we still rejoice Santa (and he called for an Uber).
But I heard him exclaim, ere they drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and drink more Yuengling Light!”