'Twas the day before Holiday cheer, when all through the THP,
Every member was stirring, especially One-T;
The signatures were cleared in the profiles with care,
In hopes that new clubs would soon would be there;
The Thainer was nestled all snug in his bright organe bed;
While visions of putters danced in Buck Job's head;
My wife in her snuggie, and me in my sweats
Had just settled down to browse the internets.
When up on the forum there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to my phone to see what was the matter.
Booting up laptop, I flew like a flash
Entered my password and sat down with a crash.
The "New Posts" section filled with new threads,
Leaving the THP webmasters scratching their heads,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But did 3 little words "2012 Holiday Cheer",
Started by JB and filled with comments so quick,
I knew in a moment he must be a gift.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Cobra! now, Cleveland! now TaylorMade and Srixon!
On, Titleist! on, Bridgestone! on, Callaway and Mizuno!
To the top of the page to the top of the wall!
Now giveaways! giveaways! giveways all!"
As balls that after the errant drives sky,
When they meet with an obstacle, and go O.B. on the fly;
So up to the frontpage with their cursors they flew
With the RV full of toys, and GolferGal too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard a sound a like
The walking and clacking of each little spike
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney JB came with a bound.
He was dressed all in Red, from his head to his feet
And his clothes were all PUMA, especially his cleats.
A bag full of clubs he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a caddie just looping for Jack.
His irons they twinkled! his wedges, how merry!
His head covers were like roses, his putter like a cherry!
His laces on his spikes, drawn up in a bow,
And the belt on his waste was as white as the snow;
The stump of a tee he held tight in his teeth,
And the Puka hat he wore, encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a clean shaven face and some nice pleated slacks
And a great big staff bag, for carrying snacks.
He was kind and real giving, a right jolly young man,
And I fist-bumped him when I met him, because he doesn't shake hands;
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, but went straight to his work,
And filled all our inboxes; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his RV to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like Bubba Watson Missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight
“Happy 2012 Holiday Cheer to all, and to all a good night!”
Every member was stirring, especially One-T;
The signatures were cleared in the profiles with care,
In hopes that new clubs would soon would be there;
The Thainer was nestled all snug in his bright organe bed;
While visions of putters danced in Buck Job's head;
My wife in her snuggie, and me in my sweats
Had just settled down to browse the internets.
When up on the forum there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to my phone to see what was the matter.
Booting up laptop, I flew like a flash
Entered my password and sat down with a crash.
The "New Posts" section filled with new threads,
Leaving the THP webmasters scratching their heads,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But did 3 little words "2012 Holiday Cheer",
Started by JB and filled with comments so quick,
I knew in a moment he must be a gift.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Cobra! now, Cleveland! now TaylorMade and Srixon!
On, Titleist! on, Bridgestone! on, Callaway and Mizuno!
To the top of the page to the top of the wall!
Now giveaways! giveaways! giveways all!"
As balls that after the errant drives sky,
When they meet with an obstacle, and go O.B. on the fly;
So up to the frontpage with their cursors they flew
With the RV full of toys, and GolferGal too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard a sound a like
The walking and clacking of each little spike
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney JB came with a bound.
He was dressed all in Red, from his head to his feet
And his clothes were all PUMA, especially his cleats.
A bag full of clubs he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a caddie just looping for Jack.
His irons they twinkled! his wedges, how merry!
His head covers were like roses, his putter like a cherry!
His laces on his spikes, drawn up in a bow,
And the belt on his waste was as white as the snow;
The stump of a tee he held tight in his teeth,
And the Puka hat he wore, encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a clean shaven face and some nice pleated slacks
And a great big staff bag, for carrying snacks.
He was kind and real giving, a right jolly young man,
And I fist-bumped him when I met him, because he doesn't shake hands;
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, but went straight to his work,
And filled all our inboxes; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his RV to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like Bubba Watson Missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight
“Happy 2012 Holiday Cheer to all, and to all a good night!”
