Every so often the spirit moves me, (and no, I don’t mean the liquid kind) it’s more the okay, I’m taking myself way too seriously here, I’ve got to fill myself with holiday cheer.

This morning was just such a time.

Every Christmas, my daughters and their friend Christie, have a tradition where they inveigle one unsuspecting male dinner guest to dress up in drag and lip sync to Santa Baby. (Oh the pictures and video I could share — remember guys, I can be bought).

This Christmas, a young friend of C.C.’s song, Taylor, has offered to volunteer himself — imagine, a willing supplicant all lined up for the dastardly deed.

One year, I had retreated to the bedroom when the doorbell rang and as all the guests were busy hooting and hollering over my daughter Liseanne in slinky leotard and her erstwhile dance partner, Cody, equally attired in glittery, slinky fashion, dancing to Flashdance, no one was answering the door.

I finally succumbed to the bells’ insistent ring and what did I find? Nope. No shiny reindeer. just three police men.

For some reason, that evening — which really was filled with laughter and good times and fun — came back into my mind this morning. Must be the holiday season taking over my normally sympathetic, I must make a difference in the world kind of thinking to remind me of the most important rule of all — Don’t take yourself so seriously!

And thus…. the following was born.

Twas the night…. not really.

With less than a week to ole’ Christmas
and all through my house
the creatures are dreaming of the arrival of Mr. Claus

Ellie she lays by the fire and snores
her mind all clogged up with blueberry cake mix and more
Marley he roams through the hallways at night
searching for mice who might make his delight

and me, I’m a wrappin’ and decoratin’ like a dervish
I’m makin’ even the critters all panicky and nervous.

There’s so much not done (and so much to do)
I think I might just have to stop
and have a wee sip, or two
I rush to the liquor cabinet and fling open the door
When what to my wondering eyes do I see
ten bottles stand empty, dead soldiers oh dear me.
I drop to my knees
and cry out in despair
oh dancer, oh dasher, oh prancer you vixen
you reindeer you’ve stolen all my holiday fixens’

Ellie opens one eye and stares with dismay
to see her master crying over
a bottle of spilt Tangueray
and Marley the wise cat
slithers out through the door
he’s not getting closer
to his mistress and a bottle of Glen Morangie no more

I sigh and I fall to the floor in a mess
to see that there’s no liquor to share with my guests
I wonder and I ponder what’s happened to it all
and then I remember that night I vaguely recall
it wasn’t the reindeer
or even jolly ‘Ole St Nick
there’s only one reason, says the voice in my head
that the cupboard is empty
and there’s no cheer to sip.

Remember that party last boxing day night
when you opened the door with such expectant delight
to find no cute elf, no wise men, not even a ghost
instead just three police men like sturdy posts
holding out a pink slip as they said with elan
you’re raisin’such a racket you can be heard all across the land

you begged them for mercy, I’m sorry you said
too bad, they responded
this party is dead
stop all the dancing, you’ve taken it too far,
or off you’ll be driven in our blue and white car
and we’ll throw away the key with you behind bars

Remember you closed the front door on their backs
your eyes they filled up, your shoulders they slacked
okay my friends, that’s enough for tonight,
I think this tradition needs to take a winter’s nap
no more Santa Baby, no more men all dressed in drag
no more dancing and hollering
no more acting as if you’re all at a stag

but wait, someone hollered, their eyes shiny and bright
was that Santa dressed up in a blonde wig and tights?

let’s stop what we’re doing he said kind of slurrish
as he pulled off his garland of feathers with a flourish
let’s get down to business
of cleaning out the bar
let’s drink til we’re finished
let’s drink til we’re done
let’s drink til the bottles are empty of the last drop of rum

and with that you sprang up and lifted a bottle of cheer
and exclaimed in a loud voice, were you slurring my dear?
come Absolut, come Glen Fiddich, come Drambuie, come Bols
On Gordon’s, on Tequila, Grand Marnier, and Calvados

And without a word, you went straight to work
and filled your gullet, you turned into such a jerk
and laying a finger at the side of your nose,
you finished off even the homemade brew from Uncle Joe

and as each drop was consumed that wet your ole’ whistle
you flew up to the roof like the down on a thistle
and called out to everyone as you passed out of sight
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!