Well, here's the cumulative poem:

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the forum

Not a creature was stirring, not even a possum;

Their map knickers hung by the keyboard with care

In hopes that Santa 'Spaw soon would be there;

The 'Catters were tucked in all snug in their beds

And visions of Mick's food danced in their heads;

Mbo with charango and Banjo Bonnie with thong

Had just settled down to sing a long song;

When out on the web there arose such a furor;

They refreshed the threads to see what could occur

Away to my monitor I flew like grouse and with sand in my eyes took control of the mouse;

The moon on the chest of the shiny waxed Squeak

Gave the lustre of midday below in the creek,

When what to my wondering eyes should waylay

But a banjo-shaped sled pulled by possums of clay.

With a skinny ol' driver so zany and braw

I knew in a moment it must be Santa 'Spaw!

Like gauchos' fast feet his possums they came

And he cursed and shouted and called them by name:

"Now CLETUS! now Waylon! now Cleigh! and now Neil!

On Tooter! on Gargoyle! On Stupid and Eel!

To the reeds in the creek to the top of the screen

With such a torrent of !@#$%&* that's ever been seen!

As houses before Hurricane Floyd they did fly

Like Dorothy's house, right up in the sky.

So up to the toolbar the possums they flew

With a sled full of music, and Santa 'Spaw too.

And then in a twinkling I hear through my speakers

The dancing and jigging of very small sneakers.

As I drew back my hand and said "What was that?"

Down the forum 'Spaw scrolled, and fell on his prat.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his feet.

Our Marion screamed, OCH! I BET HE EATS MEAT!

For GeorgeH gin and tonic, and out of his pack

The sayings of Cromwell, just for the crack!

His eyes - how they watered, his dimples how merry!

His his nose it was HUGE just like our pal Larry!

His mouth was drawn up like the bow for a fiddle

Or like a beer can that was crushed in the middle.

A long whisp of wheat he clenched in his teeth

And dragonflies halo-ed his head like a wreath.

He had a silly little grin and not much of a belly

That in no way resembled a bowl of lime jelly (that one's for you, Aine)

Neither chubby nor plump, a right hon'rable 'Catter

And I laughed just like somebody toots a goat's bladder;

With a flick of the wrist and a tap on his head

I knew he'd have something to add to the Thread;

He spouted some political thoughts as he filled up the knickers

With dulcimers, and banjos with folk band name stickers,

And laying his finger aside of his nose

He gave a loud snort and up the screen rose;

He sprang to his sled, to his team gave a toot,

And shot liked a ball kicked by CLETUS' foot.

But I heard him exclaim as bold flight he ensued

"Next stop, The Neil Young Center for the Terminally Screwed!"

--Mbo