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Rhyme and reason for the season: 2011 version

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Our annual funtime homage, Shelby County style, to Clement Moore.

By Steve Doyle

We’re here again with our holiday verse,

To bring you a cheer or maybe a curse.

But we hope for a smile from ear to ear,

Our goal is only a bit of holiday cheer.

So with only  apologies to Clement Moore,

Our Night Before In Shelby is your reading chore.

 

‘Twas the night before Christmas,

And all across the field,

Holes and folds were numerous,

No play would that place yield.

 

The football players were snug,

Playing on the old Shelby surface,

Hopes still sprang eternal,

For track stars hoping to race.

 

So yellow tape was strung,

By the bleachers with care,

In hopes of some home games,

Soon would be played there.

 

And Jimmy in his kerchief,

And Kerry in his cap,

Were having to settle down,

For a long winter’s nap.

 

When outside the field house,

There rose such a noise,

They jumped from their beds,

To check on the girls and the boys.

 

Away to Titans Stadium,

They flew like a flash,

Tore open the gates,

Toward the 50, did they dash.

 

The moon was shining down

On a place not now impervious,

Creating dangerous shadows,

That made them jittery, nervous.

 

When what they saw next,

Even stunned themselves,

It was a miniature sleigh,

Carrying a crew of helmeted elves.

 

With a little old driver,

So lively and quick,

They feared in a moment,

This was some odd trick.

 

And in a twinkle,

They saw on the turf,

A rapid deployment,

Like so many serfs.

 

As Jimmy was ducking

Behind a bush and turning around,

From out of sleigh,

20 workers lit aground.

 

They were dressed all in green

From their feet to their heads,

And they looked pretty tired,

On their feet, almost dead.

 

But an energetic elf,

He had a big loud voice,

And he shouted that this job,

Really was no choice.

 

He was dressed all in red,

From his head to his foot,

The fir trim was clean,

In no dirt did he root.

 

A diagram he held,

Folded in his hand,

He referred to it often,

No doubt it was a plan.

 

They spoke not a word,

And went straight to work,

They rolled back fake grass,

And they repaired every quirk.

 

“That should do it,”

Said the red-clad man with a smile

The kids can train here in the spring,

Clear hurdles, run 1 or 2 miles.

 

Then laying a finger aside of his nose,

He nodded quickly at Kerry,

Moved fast among his men,

He stepped on no toes.

 

He sprang to the sleigh,

And to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew,

Like an East Middle Missile.

 

And they heard him exclaim,

Ere he flew from the site,

“Tell those people next time,

To get it done right!”

 

Merry Christmas!