Twas the night before Christmas


‘Tis the night before Christmas, when all through the house; Not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse.

But something is happening out there in the dark; Dalbeattie Club Runners are leaving the park.

Leading them forward, is Santa in red; With a good natured elf (who should be in bed).

Among pounding feet, now what should appear; But a cosily coated cute curly reindeer!

Turn right up Barhill, good friends have a blether; Of plans for festivities, food and the weather!

The stars are all shining, a full moon is bright; Through town streets they canter at gone midnight.

Windows and trees decked in lights are admired; Keeping their thoughts from sore legs getting tired.

Santa hats bobbing and red faces glowing; They follow the bypass – no sign of slowing.

“GO ON! UPTHE HILL!” booms a voice from the rear; Their leader’s instructions are all too clear

Up past the high school, in long file they go. The hill takes its toll, the runners jog slow.

They pump their arms hard as the going gets tough; Their breath mists the air as they huff and they puff.

But then feet are flying as they reach the bandstand. For sloe gin’s inspiration is close at hand –

A toast to Christmas and a good job well done; Day 25 of their Great Marcothon Run!

So the runners live happily ever after! Their story is told ‘midst good cheer and laughter;

This chapter will end with hardly a tear; Let’s drink to fresh challenges in the New Year.

by Diana Lordutm меткиblogs.korrespondentкласс отзывыmonthly budget planner appкостная пластика нижней челюсти