A Visit from St. Maro

A Visit from St. Maro
By Aiokii, Original by Clement Clarke Moore.
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the store
Not a creature was tapping, not even a Kor;
The boosters sat in the showcase with care,
False hopes that players soon would be there;
But children were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of Tarmogoyfs danced in their heads;
And mamma at home, and I, the card shop,
Had just closed my store for a long winter’s stop,
When out on the lot there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my counter to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like I had Flash,
Pushed away the sign and hit the door with a Crash.
The Blood Moon on the breast of the Lands Covered Snow,
Gave a lustre of red to the non-basics below,
When my wondering eyes I thought him as a stalker,
But an Arcum’s Sleigh and seven tiny Planeswalkers,
With a short little driver without a moment to borrow,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Maro.
More rapid than Storm Crows his coursers had chased,
So fast they dashed you’d swear they had haste.
“Now, Jace! now, Garruk! now Vraska, now Venser!
With Flight, keep on unblocked by wall!
Now tap away! tap away! tap away all!”
As leaves that before the wild Hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the storetop the Planeswalkers they flew
With the sleigh full of cards, and St. Maro too—
And then, in a jingling, I heard on the top
The footsteps in snow with a soft little plop.
As I cast Panic, and was turning around,
Down the air ducts St. Maro came without sound.
He was dressed all in flannel, from his head to his shoe,
And his hair was all fluffy like bunnies in a petting zoo;
A bundle of decks he had stored in a sack,
And he looked like a player wearing a backpack.
Pulling the bag from his shoulder, released a full sigh,
He dressed so plainly; like a regular guy!
His cheeks were so rosy, his nose like a cherry!
If it was darker I’d swear it was Drew Carey,
And the smile on his face was as white as the snow;
that illuminated the store wherever he go.
The Magic he had wielded like a sword in a sheath,
And the mana, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He tossed boxes of cards about too and fro,
and filled the shelves where my customers go.
And I laughed when I saw him, with Spite/Malice;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me knowledge he even had Dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the booster boxes; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the air ducts he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all ran like a Liege of Thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
“Happy Christmas to all, and booster draft all night!”
Swing Last and Merry Christmas,

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