Hey guys. The holidays are here, and we’re all back home with our families, wishing we were still in Pullman getting drunk and listening to KZUU. We want everyone to know how much we appreciate the time and effort that our beautiful DJs spend making the station the best thing on the Palouse since John Olerud. To celebrate, Evan has prepared a KZUU-style version of Clement C. Moore’s classic poem “The Night Before Christmas,” rewritten with a few notable changes that, well, you’ll see soon enough. Enjoy it, enjoy your break, enjoy your family, enjoy your friends. Make your New Year’s resolutions, break them, then come back and continue the KZUU debauchery. Happy holidays.
“The Night Before Khristmas”
-by Clement C. Moore, adapted by Evan Reyes
(note: the “I” in the narration isn’t meant to be anyone in particular, just the voice of the narrator. use your imagination!)
’twas the night before Christmas, when all through the station
Not a creature was stirring, except the automation.
Applications were hung by the office with care,
In hopes that St. Timothy soon would be there.
The DJs were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Yoni Wolf danced in their heads.
And Chelan in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long Pullman nap.
When out on the mall there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the studio 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 miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.
He held the reins tight as he reached out his limb,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Tim.
More noble than huskies his coursers they came,
And he shouted, and called his fair Cougars by name!
“Now Adam! now, Andi! now, Josie and Brennan!
On, Shannyn! On, Nissa! on, Davis and Weston!
To the top of the CUB! to the top of Todd Hall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
And then, in a twinkling, I thought that I saw
The prancing and dancing of each little paw.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the staircase St. Timothy came with a bound.
He was dressed all in flannel, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of records he had on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just 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 face was as white as the snow.
A can of Busch Light was held firm in his grasp,
You could tell from his drink that the man was pure class.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was handsome and kind, 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 told me of music, and the FCC’s rules,
How he works to make our station better than other schools’.
He explained why we rule over KUGR,
Video never killed this radio star.
He spoke many words, then 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 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!”