Twas My Last Gig Before Christmas
Twas my last gig before Christmas, when all through the house
Nothing was working, not even my best licks ala Son House,
My band mates were all playing with the greatest of care,
In hopes that someone in the audience would get out of their chair.
My fingers were nimble, my strings were not dead,
And I tried to play every note as it sounded in my head,
While Stanley the bassist laid down a groove that was phat,
Yet the listeners still seemed not to notice any of that...
When out in the parking lot arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the stage to see what was the matter.
Away through the audience I flew like a flash,
That’s when I noticed every single one of them was trashed.
The room on the left was still watching the show
Even though the lead guitarist had walked out the door,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than appregios his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now,Hendrix! now, Holly! now Dimebag and Vaughan!
On, Garcia! on Gatemouth! on, Blind Lemon and Walker (T-Bone)!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As lithe melodies that sing while played with a slide,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the roof-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of gear, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a tweakering, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I went back inside, and returned to the stage,
I was surprised to find St. Nicholas had taken my place.
He was dressed in black leather, from his head to his foot,
And his reindeer were all holding guitars in their hooves.
A modified Gibson, an ES 335, was hung on his strap,
And it looked like so beautiful, all shiny and black.
His eyes -- how they twinkled – as he plugged into my amp!
Then he looked at me and motioned me to come up the ramp.
He introduced himself as Riley and his guitar as Lucille,
And I stood there in awe as he started to wail.
And finally the whole audience rose to their feet,
as the bassist and drummer provided the beat.
He had a broad face and fingers like spaghetti
That pulled and bent out sweet notes a plenty.
He was chubby and plump, a hard rocking old elf,
And I cried because his tone was ringing like a bell.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word as he stepped off the stage,
And gave each of his reindeer a chance to play,
Each in his turn laying their fingers to the strings,
And playing their hearts out like angels that sing.
Then he sprang to the stage, and to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all shredded like Eddie Van Halen.
And I heard him exclaim, over the musical delight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
Author: Clement C. Moore
(as corrupted by Randall “Pappy” Pappas)
