The Night Before Sithmas, by Lord Z'ash. 'Twas the night before Sithmas, when all through the house, Not a creature was stirring, not even a slate-mouse; The stockings were strung by the heating unit with care, In hopes that St. Baras soon would be there; The acolytes all nestled all snug in the cot, With visions of k'lor'slugs, dripping with snot; And mama in her life day robe, and I in my pilot's cap, Had just settled down to a long solistice nap. When out on the terrace there arose such a clatter, I sent HK-51 to see what was the matter. Away to the window he lept like a flash, And sniped St. Baras square in the ***. . . . . . We got coal again this year.