The cities were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of MLS danced in their heads,
And mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap
Had just settled our brains for a long off season nap.
--
When out by the apartment recreation center there arose such a clatter
I sprang from the air mattress to see what was the matter
Away to the window I flew like a flash
Tore open the curtains and pretended to throw up the sash
--
The moon on the breast of the stripper I know
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below
When, what to my wandering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer
--
With a little old driver, so narrow and drawn
I knew in a moment it must be St. Don
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name
--
Now Sunil! Now, Abbot! Now, Promotion and Relegation !
On, Klinsmann! On, Arena! On, Donovan and Allocation!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!
--
As wet shit that before the wild hurricane remain,
When they meet with a hostile government that won't use eminent domain,
So up to the apartment top the coursers they flew,
With a sleigh full of MLS bids, and St. Don too.
--
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The playing of 300 from the upstairs douche
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the radiator pipe St. Don came with a bound.
--
He was dressed all in suit, from his head to his foot
And his clothes were all tarnished with rule discrepancies to boot.
A bundle of stadium renderings he had flung on his back
And he looked like Bill Peterson, just opening his pack
--
His eyes how they twinkled! His bald head how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And he decided to change the playoff rules to create a better show.
--
The stump of a vape pen he held tight in his teeth
And the fedora it encircled his head like a wreath
He had a tight little face and a tight little belly,
That was the result of Pilates and a long grain rice diet from his consultant named Shelly.
--
He was skinny and drawn, with commissioner's feet,
And I laughed when I saw him, as I sent off a tweet
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know that I had nothing to dread.
--
He spoke not a word, as I stood back to lurk
And filled some of the stocking and told Sacramento it wasn't going to work,
After laying their chances astride on the floor
And giving a nod, he strode out the door!
--
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of Partick Thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he left for a celebration,
"Happy Christmas to all, and fuck promotion/relegation!"
