A Visit From Andre Claus (aka The Night Before Tex-mas)
(All rights reserved by UprootedTexan Inc., L.L.C., a family company)
Twas the Saturday before Tex-mas and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung in the training room with care,
Because all of the Texans found themselves in there;
The Texans were nestled all snug in their sick beds,
With visions of next season dancing in their heads;
And BOB in his kerchief, and Rick Smith with his salary cap,
Would soon bring in new players who aren’t worth a crap,
When out on the field there arose such a clatter,
I heard it at home and tossed my sampler platter.
Away to my bedroom I flew like a bat,
I stomped on the floor and yelled at the cat.
The light reflected off my libation’s bottle,
Made me realize my possessions I’d just throttled,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
Out came the offensive line and I got another beer,
With a little young quarterback, so lively and quick,
I knew this drive would end soon, most likely with a pick;
More rapid than eagles the cornerback came,
And with the ball he shouted and jeered by name;
“Bye-bye Hopkins, bye-bye Yates, bye-bye Breno and Miller!”
When he got to the end zone he did the dance from Thriller.
With the game in hand and my blood alcohol high
For a nap I settled down on the couch where I lie.
Then on the roof there was quite a loud noise,
“Probably just the kids and their damn toys.”
On the roof there was a rustle and thump,
And up from the couch 10 feet did I jump.
Down from the chimney fell some soot and some flue,
My mind was spinning, it must have been the brew.
There he stood in my chimney lean, wiry, and slim,
Decked out in battle red, steel blue, with liberty white trim.
Twas not Santa but Andre Claus this fine Texmas Eve,
He smiled and strode past, it was more than I could believe!
Two elves popped in behind him with presents in tow,
The tossed him each present and he caught every throw.
The presents were stacked neatly beneath the tree,
When he suddenly stopped and tossed one to me;
His gift to me this December twenty-fifth,
Was a pink slip written for Mr. Rick Smith.
I reached to hug him in my glee and froze,
Opting to shake his hand instead, I chose;
He signaled to his elves he was ready to go,
There was no trace of him left, truly a pro’s pro.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a heat-seeking missile.
But I heard him exclaim as he streaked out of sight,
“MERRY TEX-MAS TO Y’ALL, AND TO Y’ALL A GOOD NIGHT!”
Enjoy the game y’all. The usual commenting rules apply.