'Twas three nights after Christmas, when all thro' the park

Not a creature was stirring, not even Allahu Aqbark

The down downs were poured by the hares with great care,

In hopes that Hand Pump soon would be there;

The hashers were nestled all snug in their coats,

While draughts of the keg's beer flooded their throats

And Millimeter Peter knew just what to get,

He'd found all the crimes for a short circle set —

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

Hoseblower sprang to see what was the matter.

Away to the keg Menage flew like a flash,

Poured out the cups, and alerted up the hash.

Chicken Bone Her's lamp with an inviting glow,

Gave the luster of mid-day to Sparkle Blow Me below;

And, what to my drunken eyes should appear,

But a grumpy park ranger, with a hatred of beer,

With a terrible visage, he'd come from so far,

I knew in a moment he must be from Mar.

More rapid than eagles, Tears of Semen gave cry,

To the house of Blowqueen, we'd be safe from his eye:

"Now! Deadbeat, now! Jizzard, now! Pumping Ethel and Dick Simmons,

"On! Masterbaster, on! Wrinklepecker, on! Uber Luber and Ru Ru Rimmin;

"To the end of the block! To the top of the wall!

"Now drink away! Drink away! Drink away all!"

As Backside and Dickweed about synthetics argued,

My Little Porno with the virgins she'd accrued,

Greeted visitors from Portland and DC alike,

With a sleigh full of toys — ones Uncle Bad Touch'd like.

And then in a twinkling, I heard such a cry

The romancing when Eat My Pussy did spy,

A youth drew his head, but he before could pounce—

Down the block Gingervitis came with a flounce:

He was dress'd all in fur, a fierce look on his face,

He gathered Eat My Pussy at an FRB pace;

A promise of pleasure drew them from our lot,

The sort that'd enticed Orville Redencocker and Just Scott:

Their eyes— how they twinkled! Their postures: how regal,

Just like Drunkin Honuts, when she was found on the Eagle;

We had all drunk good beer and were all now quite merry,

And gathered to listen to the sounds that would carry;

To ears that would hear the night's truth and its lies,

Ideas that would lend a quiver to Buck Fucka's thighs.

Even Aaron took a chance and his headphones removed

With the dulcet tones of Bacon, his mind would be soothed.

But the legend of Hand Pump was all that they'd got

And the crimes were told in such a reclusive spot;

Banana in Public and Yellow Prick Load

Groused together about it from the edge of the road.

"What'd we miss in our disadvantaged situation, as such?"

Replied Saigon Sally, "Frankly not much."

But the hares were still waiting at the end of the line,

Cockamole to Menage exclaimed, "We did just fine!

To Elixir we'll go, and drink even more.

No need for compliments, it'd be such a bore,"

As she said, so we did. It's On On, out of sight —

Happy Hashing to all, and to all a good night.