The title for today’s episode really doesn’t tell the whole story but we’ll leave it at that to protect the guilty. Back to the story... OM tell Lunch Gang members he’s going to prepare a brisket in his smoker, PARTY! We gathered in one of the conference rooms (restrictions in Bago Cafe, formerly known as Goose Lane Cafe, prevent us from having a party at our normal table - fine print in the contract) to enjoy some holiday laugher and very good food. A few of the non-LG members attended TNT, Bowmen, and yes even Kevin.
So mark this joyous occasion, a poem was produced by the Lunch Gangs very own ManCave. We called it “Twas the Morning before Brisket” which has some similarities to the very famous poem “Twas thee Night before Christmas”. We hope you enjoy it.
| Twas the Night before Christmas Poem | Twas the Morning before Brisket Poem |
| Twas the nigh before Christmas, and when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there. | Twas the morning before brisket and all through the cubes, not a L.G. member was stirring, not even the noobs. The Keurig was filled on Bago's desk with care, in hopes that the OM's smoked meat would soon be there. |
| The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads. And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap. | Bago was nestled, all snug in his bed. While visions of cherry pie filled his head. And MC with his Crockpot and I with my 'slaw, had just settled down for a long winter's chat |
| 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. | When out in the conference room, there arose such a clatter, the one named O'Canada said something that mattered. Away to the door, we flew like a flash, to avoid H.R. and their nasty back lash! |
| 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 a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer. | The crust on the top of TNT's Lean Cuisine, gave the lustre of greatness to this smoky meat dream. When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but Bowman, cherry pie and no whipped cream, Oh Dear! |
| With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name! | With comments on coupons so lively and quick, we knew right away someone was being a d***. More rapid than eagles, the curse words they came, and we whistled and shouted and screamed them by name! |
| "Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!" | Now ManCave, Now Coach! Now, Picky and BAGO! On OM! On Canada! On Bowman and Kevin! Out of the conference room, run past the walls, Now dash away! Dash away, all! |
| As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too. | As smoked meat that cooks before the morning day flies, when baked beans meet an obstacle and lead to farts in the sky. So up to the hall the cubesters they flew with a bag full of garbage and St. Bago's pie too! |
| And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound. | And then in a twinkling I heard from a stall, it was someone purging from doing this all. As I drew in my head and was turning around, out from the stall came St. Bago abound. |
| He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot. A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack. | He was dressed in a purple shirt from his head to his gut, and his clothes were all tarnished from 'cue sauce and such. A bundle of cherries he had flung on his back, and he looked like a tele-tubbie rubbing his sack. |
| His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow. | His eyes how they twinkled! His dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose full of cherries! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow and the white on his chin was from whipped cream not snow. |
| The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and a little round belly, That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly! | The stump of the brisket he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke rings from the meat encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and a swinging pelvis, and he dove for the chocolate loaf like the latter day Elvis. |
| He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself! A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. | Yeah, he was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, and I laughed when he purged, in spite of myself. A twitch of his eye and twist of his head, and coupons a-flyin' all over the 'stead. |
| He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk. And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose! | He spoke not a word after being beatdown, and filled the garbage can with pie tins abound. And laying his finger way up his nose, he pulled out a winner and wiped on his clothes! |
| He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!" | He sprang to his Winnebago and gave all a whistle; he saluted Al Allen and shot out like a missile. But I heard him exclaim and he drove 15 miles per hour out of sight, Happy Lunch Gang Christmas to all, and to all a good night! |
