T’was the last meeting before Christmas, when through the club house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the podium with care,
In hopes that Paul Rukala soon would be there;
The members were nestled all snug drinking beer,
And talk of football, as always, seemed to appear;
And Frank in his summer clothes, and I in my chair,
Ready for the meeting, our group would be Fair
They built Better Friendships as they all hung out,
Like minded in service, there was surely no doubt;
When out on the golf course there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from their seats to see what was the matter;
Away to the window they flew like a flash,
Damian tripped Delaney in their mad dash;
When what to Ken’s wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and 8 tiny reindeer;
With a little old driver, so lively and spruce,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Bruce;
More rapid than race horses his reindeer they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Stacey! now, Tori! now, Pranil and Twaina!
On, Erine! on, Randy! on, Tony! and Laura!
To the top of the deck! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As Will drew in his head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Bruce came with a bound.
He was dressed all in red, and at Aaron he stared,
“Put this in the newsletter or you won’t be spared”.
A bundle of bags he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! You knew he spoke Truth,
His cheeks were like roses, from a sip of vermouth;
He spoke not a word, which is hard to believe,
And filled all the stockings, it was Christmas Eve,
He hoped this was Beneficial to All Concerned,
With just a slight nod, up the chimney he returned;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle
Away they all flew like they shot out of a missile
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove on due west,
"Goodwill to all, and to all live by the 4 Way Test.”
