Twas the night before Black Saturday, and all through the house,

Fingers were flying 'cross the keyboard and mouse.

My wish list was hung by the telephone with care,

In hopes that Wildman's announcement soon would be there.


The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of rocket launches danced in their heads.
While mom did her best to hide Visa and checkbook
Ive lived with her long enough to know where to look.


When out on the Forum arose such a clatter,

I sprang to my chair to see what was the matter.

Away to the internet I flew like a flash,

Hoping to log in before the inevitable crash.
I joined thousands of rocketeers all through the land
My computer was whirring, with cash in my hand

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a big motor home and eight fiery reindeer.


With a little old driver, so lively and slim,

I knew in a moment it must be Saint Tim.

More rapid than Copperheads, his motors did light,

And he whistled, and shouted, and knew them on sight!
"White Lightning, Blue Thunder, Redline, Black Jack
Smokey Sam, Classic, C Star, V Max
,
To the far away pads. To the top of the wall!

Use a Wilson controller! Drag race them all!"
A listing of reloads in the email he sent
Bundled with hardware, marked 50 percent.
Ultimate Darkstars and West Systems glue,
bulkheads and nose cones and Aero Packs, too.
Oh, the list was quite long, stretched out into the night,
Eagle Claw, Kevlar, Cesaroni, Top Flite
So onto our screens the ensembles flew,
Rocket kits, motors, and Saint Timothy, too.
He was dressed in event ware, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
The stub of a cigarette held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
In his trailer were goodies, organized on some shelves
Continually replenished by QCRS elves.
And as he rang up my sale, my pile started to grow,
Like his three-day stubble, which was as white as the snow.


He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And shipped all the boxes, then turned with a jerk.

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the launch rail he rose!


He sprang to the motor home, and gave Jackie a holler,

And away they both drove with all of my dollars.

But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-flight!"