The following was originally published to the Wook-Blog 1.0 on December 24, 2016.

‘Tis the night before Christmas,

and I’m chilling at home,

Listening to David Bowie,

and writing this poem.

My tickets are bought,

and I’m full of good cheer,

Patiently waiting for

YEMSG to be here.

My wife is nestled

all snug in her bed,

With the chorus of Sugar-Shack

a glide in her head.

And I, all alone

with my pipe in my hand,

Am feeling pretty grateful

for Phish on-demand.

With my thoughts a drift,

I log into twitter,

To see the latest reason

why @thePhunion is bitter.

Through his tweets I scroll,

in search of a dime,

But as always with Twitter,

it’s a waste of my time.

Exhaling, I lean back

and begin to let go,

And look out my window

at the fresh fallen snow.

When, in front of my eyes

unfolds quite the drama,

Between a man on a multi-beast,

and a knight on a llama.

Wilson has won,”

the man postures so strongly.

“There’s nothing to do,”

he continues so wrongly.

“You know that’s not true,”

the knight then replies.

“We could retrieve the book…

don’t buy into the lies.”

“Lies you say?

Don’t be ridiculous!”

Laughing heartily,

“Go pray to Icculus.”

“That I will do,

as I have done times before,

And will continue to do,

‘til Wilson is no more.”

With the knight’s final statement

having been made,

The scene set before me

begins to fade.

And now in its stead

on the stage made of sleet,

I see a boy with his cat,

curled up at his feet.

“I think we lost him Poster!

Oh Hallelujah!

I know how much you hate

that goddamn Harpua!”

Silently shivering,

the kitten looks up

“We should be going

before we’re found by that pup.”

My wife is now awake,

and I'm afraid I must go.

Have a merry Phishmas,

I'll see you at the show.

© 2020