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Title: Apologies to Mr. Clement Clarke Moore...
Posted By: Demandred
Posted On: 12/25/1999 1:18:23 AM

DISCLAIMER: This is a parody, and a work of fiction. It is not intended to represent the real situation. It was also written at 11:15 PM, so don't complain.

The Night Before Christmas: Dragonmount Edition

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through DM,
All the programmers were almost spitting up phlegm.
While stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
The DM Technicians had no time to spare.

While the members were nestled all snug in their beds,
complications ran through all the admin guys' heads.
While wading through servers, slowed down by netcrap,
Some snore, until coffee gets spilled in their lap.

Outside in some places had fallen some snow,
But away from their desks these guys still could not go.
They could not abandon their admin career
Until our DM could be made to appear.

With behind them a slavedriver, snapping and quick,
(at whom some of them wished to throw a large brick).
Behind them was Phoenix, with his vengeful flame,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

'Now, Robert! now, Joram! now, Demmy and Blackthorne!
On, Kat! and on Sera! on, Andrew and Connor!
'till the site will stay up, you will stay, each and all!
Now work away! work away! work away all!'

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up with a murmur that started and grew
to a mutinous roar, all the admin guys flew.

And then, in a flash, the young man too aloof,
was tied up with duct tape on top of the roof.
The programmers clapped, and returned to the ground,
leaving Phoenix there, struggling, trussed up and bound.

He was tied up in tape, from his head to his foot,
His mistreatment of staff was his bad fortune's root;
If he'd let them alone, if he'd cut them some slack,
he wouldn't be tied up there, flat on his back.

His staff were out partying, being so merry!
The drink was free-flowing: beer, whiskey, and sherry!
Though they knew the next day they would have to lie low,
For this one night, at least, they would let it all go.

They'd been working for weeks, all clenching their teeth,
For fixing DM was a real time-thief;
They were sick of it all, spending most their time telling
why it was down, and the rest of it yelling.

So they all let it out, put it on the back shelf.
Everyone thought it was time to enjoy themself.
They couldn't care less whether DM was dead,
Or whether the bossman would soon have their head.

They deserved all this party, a time off from work,
to be free from the eye of that taskmaster jerk,
There had been some moments, quite nearly, when those
flaring tempers had threatened to turn into blows.

Then the next day came by they came back at the whistle,
and untied him, though he sure looked as sore as a thistle.
But DM was back up. And so, from this site:

-- Merry Christmas, from Demandred