In the kitchen were aromas of beans freshly ground,
A jolly good brew, where cheer abounds.
Each ['SIP]CUP™ was placed by the ['SIP·STATION]™ with care,
In hopes that St. ['SIP·PIE]™ soon would be there.

And I in my ['GĒAR], with my cup held tight,
Settled my senses for that brisk Christmas night.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.

Away to the window, I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters, spilled my coffee stash.
The moon on the crest of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a luster of midday to objects below.

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh, eight tiny rein-deer.
With a happy young driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it was St. ['SIP·PIE]™, so slick.

More rapid than eagles, his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, JAVA! now, ESPRESSO! now MOCHA and LATTE!
On, CAPPUCCINO! on, AMERICANO! on, MACCHIATO and FRAPPE!

To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,
Now dash away, 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 ['SIP·PERS]™, and St. ['SIP·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. ['SIP·PIE]™ came with a bound.
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 ['GĒAR]™ he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a barista opening his pack.
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 on his chin was as white as the 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 cute little face and a jolly round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a pot full 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 ['SIP·CUPS]™; then turned with a jerk;

And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
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—
"Merry Christmas to all... a good ['SIP]™ night!"

Written by: Christofer Tracy
December 2023