|The Only Thing That Matters in February|
Not a creature was stirring, not even a terrier.
The banners were hung from the rafters with care,
In hopes that Jack Parker soon would be there.
The Terriers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of pucks danced in their heads.
When out on the BU Beach there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature bus, and many tinny players.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Parker.
More rapid than terriers his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Privvy! now, Danny! now, Scobby and Grizz!
On, OC! On, Mags! on, on BOD and Nieto!
To the top of the rink! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of sticks, and Parker too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little skate.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Parker came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of sticks-n-pucks 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 I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I 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 chimney 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 I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Beanpot to all, and to all a good-night!"