Twelve Days Of Christmas Talbot Style

The Twelve Days Of Christmas....the end!

’T was the night before Christmas, when all through the home-stead

Not a creature was stirring, not even the dead.

The entrails were flung to the wall with care,
In hopes that Eliza soon would be there.

The Talbots were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Pop-Tarts danced in their heads;

And Tracy in her ’kerchief, and I in my Red Sox cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap;

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But the dead of the day, and eight ripped open reindeer,

There were old ones and slow ones, some lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be the sick.

More rapid than eagles her curses they came,
And she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

“Now, Pestilence! now, Plague! now, Death! and Famine!
On, Vomit! on War! on, Demise! and Contagion!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now attack away! attack away! Destroy them all!”

As hard enemies that before the wild apocalypse bound,
When they meet with an obstacle, smash it to the ground,

So up to the front door the zombies they flood,
With their mouths full of meat, and hands covered in blood.

And then, in a sinking, I heard in the room below me
The prancing and pawing of each little zombie.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Through the front door Eliza came with no sound.

She was dressed all in black, from her head to her foot,
And her clothes were all tarnished with blood and soot.

A bundle of heads she had flung on her back,
And she looked like a murderer just showing her pack.

Her eyes — how black and flat! her mouth how tight!
Her skin was like snow all dried up an withered like corpses,
her nose dark as night!

Her droll little mouth was drawn up in a growl,
And the pallor of her face was as white as the snow.

The stump of a finger she held tight in her teeth,
And the smoke of destruction encircled her head like a wreath.

She had a oval face and a flat little belly,
That growled, when she ate, what looked like a handful of jelly.

She was crabby and bitchy, a right mean old self,
And I laughed when I saw her, in spite of myself.

A wink of her eye and a twist of someone’s head,
Soon gave me to know I had everything to dread.

She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And caved in all the skulls; then turned them with a jerk,

And laying her finger aside of her nose,
And giving a nod, up into the air she arose.

She sprang to her sleigh, to her team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the flight of a missile.

But I heard her exclaim, ere she drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-bite!” Pin It Now!