‘Twas the night before Christmas …

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Assembly Hall

Not a creature was stirring, not even Tom Crean

The stockings were hung by the baskets with care,

In hopes that St. Bob Knight soon would be there;

The freshmen were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of the NCAA Tournament danced in their heads;

And Korman in his ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,

When out at Memorial Stadium arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the balcony to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the banners 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 sleigh, and eight top recruits,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Knight.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

“Now, Josh! Now, Cody! Now, D’Vauntes and Marshall!

On, Austin! On, Matt! On, Jeremy and Ron!

To the top of the Hall! To the top of the Stadium!

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 gifts, and St. Knight too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each big foot.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the stairs St. Knight came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with logos and ads;

A bundle of basketballs 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 whistle he held tight in his teeth,

And the shrill it created circled the Hall 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 coach,

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 balcony 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,

“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”

santa_sleigh

3 comments

  1. all i want for christmas is to never see players wearing indiana jerseys running a pro-style offense. St. Knight, ive been good, please….

Comments are closed.