Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The Dreamies were placed in the kitchen with care, In hopes that St Clodmas soon would be there.
The humans were quiv’ring afraid in their beds, While visions of slaughter danced in their heads For in just a small number of human hours, St Clodmas would be there; the one who devours.
Then, out on the lawn, there arose such a din, As the cat who was out became one who was in. The humans all scuttled; hid under the covers And prayed through their teeth that Clod would discover
The treats they had offered like gold by the door, And they might be spared by St Clodmas’ maw. The noise from downstairs grew louder and louder As though dear St Clodmas had lit some gunpowder.
And then, just like that, the silence did fall, The humans all shivered, not happy at all. Was St Clodmas angry? Was St Clodmas sad? Whatever it was, it was sure to be bad.
The creaking of paws on the rickety stairs; The rustle of fur on the carpet so bare. The scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch of his claws on the door - St Clodmas was here! St Clodmas wanted more!
And then through the house tore a horrible thing; Half scream and half silence, a terrible ring As the humans were eaten, all snug in their beds And dear old St Clodmas decreed festive dread.
As St Clodmas left, he looked to the sky And with a small wink, his head lifted high, He cried out aloud “and to all a goodnight! For dearest St Clodmas can’t eat one more bite.
“The humans tried vainly to keep me at bay, But one bag of Dreamies won’t keep me away! To all a good Christmas; to all a good day And next time, leave salmon; that might be OK.”