Twas da Nite B4 Christmas (OBS Style)
2007-12-25 00:33:41.000 – Ryan Knapp, Staff Meteorologist
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and up on the summit
Temperatures were cold as they started to plummet.
Our stockings were hung below the TV with care,
In hopes that a man in red would soon be there.
The day shift was nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of cookie men danced in their heads;
And Nin in his box and me in my gear
Both dreamt that the morning would soon be here.
When up on the deck there rose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the deck door I flew like a flash,
Unlocked and threw open the door making it clash.
The moon shown through the fog on the snow,
Giving the summit that all too familiar winter glow.
When what to my confused, wide eyes should appear,
But a flying sleigh, and eight giant reindeer.
Landing on the obs deck, so icy and slick
I knew in a flash that it must be Saint Nick.
As they struggled with winds that bring us such fame;
Watching as he shouted to the ‘deer by name.
“Push, Dasher! Pull Dancer! Great, Prancer and Vixen!
Go, Comet! And Cupid! Fly, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the deck! Just careful, please don’t fall.
Please just land safely, is what I ask, that’s all.”
As rime that before hurricane force winds do fly,
Then meet with an observers face and make them kinda cry.
So skillfully to the deck the reindeer flew,
With a sled full of stuff, and the man in red too.
As I headed in, I hear on the roof
The landing and slamming of each giant hoof.
As I typed in the ob, I just turned around,
And down the stairs he went without a sound.
He was decked in Bean gear from head to foot
And his clothes looked surprisingly clean, no soot.
A bundle of stuff he had threw on his back
And he looked like a day hiker opening his sack.
His eyes had a twinkle and his smile was merry!
His cheeks were bright red, his nose like a cherry!
He needed a facemask since frostbite started to show
And his beard was covered in rime and blowing snow.
He applied lip balm getting some on his teeth,
And the rime encircled his cap like a wreath.
He had a large face and fairly round belly,
Shacking like a lava lamp or a bowl of jelly.
He was hypnotic as he looked at books on our shelf
I had to laugh when I saw him, but silent, to myself.
A bit of a wink as he turned his head
Let me know there’s nothing to dread.
He didn’t speak much just went to his work
Filling our stockings with a little smirk.
He then turned and tapped the side of his nose,
Gave a nod, and time seemed to have froze.
He returned to his sled and gave his team a shout
And away they slid, upstream like a trout.
But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to the obs, and to all, good night!”
Ryan Knapp, Staff Meteorologist