A night before Christmas, BG style

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the halls,

The ghost of Eve Marie Saint came through the walls.

The dorm rooms were swept out and dusted with care –

Knowing the cold-hearted RA’s soon would be there.

They look through our stuff, and they take what they wish.

Someone ratted us out, what a sneaky snitch.

The liquor was hidden in an indiscreet box

Just beneath a pile of Old Navy socks.

The howling BG winds pounded the dorms.

And outside Anderson Arena, a small red pool slowly started to form.

When all of a sudden, a woman shrieked, like a Yeti.

“Oh my gosh, Frieda Falcon stabbed Freddie!”

And over toward Olscamp, music echoed to the sky,

I knew in a moment, it must be Boombox Guy.

He adjusted his glasses, he adjusted his cap.

He turned up his radio, and was bringin’ sexy back.

The finals were finished, so I went out to Junction

Akon was playin, and the dance floor was bumpin’.

At the end of the bar, I saw a little old man,

He wore a red suit and had gloves on his hands.

I thought it was Santa – there was a twinkle in his eye.

The bartender said, “No bro, that’s just a drunk guy.”

But he had a white beard, and a big fat belly.

It shook when he drank, like a bowl full of jelly.

He looked at the menu, then ordered a round –

Took out his pipe, but first fell to the ground.

Standing at the bar, struggling just to stand;

Handing out drinks, as he shouted his command,

“Drink Nati. Chug Blatz.

Shotgun Killians, bong some Pabst.

Shot of whiskey, shot of Jack,

You just got your beer goggles back.”

Stumble to the bathroom, turning as you fall.

“Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away, crawl!”

I saw a cute girl, went for a closer look –

Was drunk and not thinking, and said I’d seen her Facebook.

She looked disgusted, she called me a “stalker,”

Turned away, but first showed me the shocker.

Completely rejected, I went to Taco Bell –

I remembered they were closed, and muttered, “What the hell.”

It was then that I decided to call it a night:

Merry Christmas to all, and to all, an “I HATE UT!”

Josh ([email protected]) recommends singing in a minor key.