Merry Christmas from Worms Etc

Written by Matthew on December 24th, 2010

Fair warning, this is a little strange, indeed sometimes I can be.

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a worm.
The worm inns were hung by the carport with care,
In hopes that compost soon would be there.

The worms were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of apple cores danced in their heads.
And squirmy in her ‘banana peel, and wiggly in his old lettuce,
Had just settled their squiggling 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 a thousand red wigglers, and eight hundred nightcrawlers.

With a little old leader, so wiggly and slick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Quick.
More rapid than slugs his wigglers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now Squiggles! now, Jumper! now, Crawler and Red!
On, Wiggler! On, Squiggler! on, on Digger and Slugger!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now squirm away! Squirm away! Squirm away all!”

As spilt syrup covers the floor,
When they meet with an obstacle,
wiggle onward and over even through the door.
So up to the house-top the wigglers they crawled,
With the bag full of Scraps, and St Quick too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The slithering and sliding of each little worm.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Quick came with a slide.

He was dressed all in compost, from his head to his tail,
And his clothes were all tarnished with castings and compost.
A bundle of Compost he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

A big fat red wiggler! his stripes 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.

The peel of a pear he held tight in his teeth,
And the compost 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!

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.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the worm inns, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He slipped to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all wiggled like a bowl of spaghetti.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he crawled out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”


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