As we stood outside the Tavern we wondered where the snow dribblers have gone this year. No writings in the snow. 'How will others find their way'? we asked. 'How will ossenflags cope with flying wombats and snow dribblers'? Nocturnal mutterings were seen in the cold air of the North as we headed back into the tavern for some warm wassailing. 'Seen any shelias on your travels'? was a faint sound heard on the stormy winds. 'Blowed if I have'! was the chorus of replies. 'Only seen a little fat man in a green suit, calling for olive to go faster'. And so we retired once again into the Christmas Tavern and called for pints of Hole Hearted to raise a Christmas toast to mudcatters of all nations.