Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Lab
Not a machine was in motion, not even a robot.
The stockings were hung by the energy core with care,
In hopes that Santa soon would be there.
The techers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of high-tech toys danced in their heads.
And FyberOptic in his room, wearing his night cap,
Had just settled his brain for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the mountain there arose such a clatter,
He sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the camera screen he flew like a flash,
Tore open the closet and threw up a bash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to his wondering eyes should appear,
But a large sleigh, and eight small reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
FyberOptic knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than unstable chemicals his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As dry rocks that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the mountain-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and Santa too.
And then, in a twinkling, he heard on the cliff
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As FyberOptic drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the energy core exhaust St Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with glowing soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And FyberOptic laughed when he saw him, in spite of himself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave him to know he had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the energy core exaust he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But FyberOptic heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all the Fybertechers, and to all a good-night!"
