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Hippie Bowman

'Twas the night before Second Life Christmas

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 'Twas the night before SL Christmas, when all through the house 
Not a prim creature was stirring, not even a talking mouse; 
The stockings were rezzed by the chimney with care, 
In hopes that St. Philip soon would be there; 
The prim babies were nestled and linked to their beds, 
While visions of cracker crumbs danced in their heads; 
And mamma in her flexies, and I in my chaps, 
Had just sat on poses for a long winter's nap, 
When out on the mega platform there arose such a clatter,
I stood from my pose to see what was the matter. 
Away to the window I TP'd like a flash, 
Derezzed the shutters and unlinked the sash. 
The SL moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow 
Gave the environmental setting of mid-day to objects below, 
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, 
But a scripted miniature sleigh, and eight scripted tiny reindeer, 
With a little old driver, so lively with skill, 
I knew in a moment it must be St. Phil.
More rapid than physical objects his coursers they came, 
And he IM'd, and shouted, and called them by name; 
"Now, Flasher! now, Lancer! now, Enhancer and Nixon! 
On, Vomit! on Stupid! on, Blender and Whitson! 
To the top of the prim! to the top of the wall! 
Now crash away! crash away! crash away all!" 
As dry leaves that before the Second Life wind fly, 
When they meet with an object, and mount to the sky, 
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of prim toys, and St. Philip too. 
And then, in my headphones, I heard on the roof 
The prancing and pawing of each little scripted hoof.
As I held down the left arrow, and was turning around, 
Down the hollowed box chimney St. Philip came with a bound. 
He was dressed all in fur, from his white flexie hair to his scripted boots, 
And his clothes had a texture, all tarnished with ashes and soot; 
A bundle of toys he had rezzed on his back, 
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. 
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a berry! 
His droll little mouth was drawn up with an AO, 
And the beard of his chin was as white as the textured snow; 
His scripted pipe he held tight in his teeth, 
And the smoke particles encircled his head like a wreath; 
He had a broad face and a little round prim belly, 
That shook, when I clicked it like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, 
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; 
A wink of his eye and a jerk of his head, 
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread; 
He spoke not a word, as he was not a talking prim elf, 
And rezzed things in all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, 
And laying his finger aside of his head, 
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rezzed;
He TP'd to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, 
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. 
But I heard him exclaim, ere he flew out of sight, 
Happy SL Christmas to all, and to all a good night!!
On behalf of Lagrange Point Spaceport and LadySue and I, I would like to wish all of you a 
very Merry Christmas, Happy Holiday, and a awesome New Year! The Bowman Family! 

 

Peace On Earth!

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Pop the cork.  Christmas is upon us..........

Tomorrow, champagne before lunch is acceptable, nay required! :)

 

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