Twas the night before Christmas

  And all through the north

  One thousand Yetis were howling

  With terrifying force.

  Only one man knew how

  To slay these foul beasts,

  And make it home in time

  For his wife's Christmas feast.

  Known by many names,

  Most often one single,

  But he preferred to be called,

  Jolly old Kris Kringle.

  He stared into the snow

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Hefting his great axe,

  An ancient family gift

  Adorned with Holly and mistletoe branch.

  "On Donner!" He bellowed

  Mounting his great reindeer

  Headed for the caves

  To spread "Christmas cheer"

  He flew like the wind,

  A blur through the night

  Yelling streams of war cries

  Preparing to fight.

  At last he arrived

  At the home of his foes,

  He announced his presence

  With a mighty "Ho Ho!'

  Awaiting at the door

  He was approached by a beast

  Whom he faced with his axe

  Ready to make it deceased.

  The beast met him with a howl

  And Santa charged in turn

  Severing the beast's head,

  And getting blood on the ferns.

  Upon the beast's death

  He was replaced by a friend

  A friend of the yeti

  Who wanted revenge.

  Santa gave a hearty chuckle

  And as you might suppose,

  He swung his great axe,

  And up the chimney it rose.

  As the beast toppled over

  Santa roared with all his might,

  "Merry Christmas motherfuckers,

  I own this night!"