‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through High Low,
Not an item was stirring, not even a bow.
The slips were hung by the front door with care,
In hopes I could get home and then wash my hair.
The suits were nestled all snug on their racks,
While all beaded sweaters slept on the stacks.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear?
But a ’42 Caddy pulled by eight large reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
As I pulled the key from the lock, and was turning around,
From the Caddy jumped Nick with a near-panicked bound.
He was dressed in faux fur, from his foot to his orb,
And his clothes were as sharp as if designed by Tom Ford.
His bundle of toys he left in the back,
And ran to me giving his forehead a smack.
“I’m in a bind, dear lady, and it’s simply because –
I remembered the children but forgot Mrs. Claus!”
I spoke not a word, but reopened the door,
And filled Santa’s stockings, and then I grabbed more.
The Fat Man whistled as I called out by name,
All the gifts for Mrs. Santa that would get him back on his game:
“Now, von Fürstenberg! Now, Missoni! Now, YSL and Hermes!
On Vivier! On Lilli Diamond and some MCM trays!
Here’s a Koret bag, a Pucci skirt, a vintage silk shawl,
Now take away! Take away! Take away all!”
Laying his finger to the side of his nose,
And giving a nod, to his ol’ Caddy he strode;
“Mrs. Claus will just love these, I know for a fact!”
And he gave me a pat right where I sat.
And I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, thanks High Low and Good-Night!”