12 Days, U.P. Michigan style
Twas da night before Christmas in dis Yooper house,
and nuttin' was stirrin', not even our mouse.
The rest of da family was all fast asleep
wit' visions of pasties delivered by jeep.
Da swampers was hung by da chiminey wit care
in hopes dat Saint Nicolas soon would be dere.
And in da far corner it was lovely to see
the Bosch cans and cabbage dat hung from da tree.
Ma home from the mine and me out on parole,
she was snuggled in bed; I was perched on da bowl.
Then alluva sudden da house starts to shudder,
some nut's on da roof and he broke da rain gutter.
He jumps down the chimney and swears cause it's tight
As I hide behind beer cases, way outta sight.
He lands in da fireplace scorching his hair
on a busted up orange crate still burning in nere.
He climbs outta da fireplace and I take a long look,
he's just like they show him in my coloring book.
With vodka-glazed eyes and a stomach like a bubble,
a five-day-old beard and dere's soot on his stubble.
His teeth when he smiles look like Grampa's weed-saw,
and he wore tennis shoes big as grizzly bear's paw.
This old Yooper elf gives me nothing to fear
as he heads for da kitchen for cookies and beer.
He kills off a six pack then belches and smirks,
and reaches into the playdoh sack, ready to work.
Now under da tree he's starting to set
the most beautiful presents us Yoopers can get.
Dere's a new pastymatic and snowblower for mother,
a steel chainsaw and some swampers for brother.
Some mud flaps, CB, and new-used weedwacker,
a helmet and nightshirt dat say "Green Bay Packers".
He close up da sack and he jumps in da coals
and hollering "OUCH!", up the chiminey he rose.
He grunted and groaned as he tossed out his bag
and cracked such a beer fart (ugh) I'm starting to gag.
I must watch him leave so I rushes outside,
I looks up at da roof while in bushes I hide.
And what does I see when I looks through da twigs?
A rusted old car body, pulled by eight pigs!
Santy jumped in and he gave 'em all hell,
"Let's go all yous pigs, don't just sit there and smell!
On Mushy and Mushy and Lempy and Joe
and all a you's others what names I don't know.
Fly over Negaunee and turn to da right,
we make Houghton-Hancock before I get tight."
Then I hear him exclaim with a cynical sneer
"Pull in at dat Bosch sign, I run outta beer!!"