Here is my updated version of Twas the Night before Christmas… ‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a phone was ringing, not even a text;
The chargers were plugged by the chimney with care, In hopes that Steve Jobs would soon be there
The children were rustling all sweaty in their beds While visions of Candy Crush danced in their heads
And mamma in her robe and I in my mask Had just settled our brains for a long phoneless nap
When out on the lawn there arose such a crash, I sprang from my bed to see what was the hell just smashed.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
When what to my wondering eyes did catch, But a miniature iPad and eight tiny geniuses,
With a tall old programmer so lively and quick, I knew in a moment he must be Steve Jobs.
More rapid than email his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: “Now, Texter! now, Tweeter! now Snapper and Caller! On, Skyper! on, Viner! on, Instagramer and Programmer!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
So up to the housetop the geniuses they flew With the iPad full of apple products, and Steve Jobs too—
And then, in a buzzing, I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little shoe.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney Steve Jobs came with a bound.
He was dressed all in white, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of iPhones he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a programmer just opening his backpack.
His glasses—how they twinkled! his wrinkles, how merry! His cheeks were like white roses, his nose like a frosted stick!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a gun, And the hand on his chin was as white as the snow; The stump of a iPod he held tight in his ear, And the music, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a long thin stomach
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 chargers with new phones; 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 iPad, 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 Christmas to all, and to all a electronic night!”
Cow Talks 