'Twas the night before Winter Veil and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, sans a click of the mouse
The presents were stored by the tree with great care,
In hopes that Grand' Winter would soon be there;
The orphans were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Pandaren Brew danced in their heads;
And my guildie in her 'kerchief, and I in my helm,
Had just settled down for a long battle-ground,
When out of the mine there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my mammoth to see what was the matter.
Away to the entrance I jogged like a flash,
Tore open the door as I threw up the latch.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the objects below,
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 thine old Ghost!
More rapid than gryphons his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Vashj! Now, Kael! On Yogg and Arthas!
On, Neth! On Bornakk! On Zarhym and Metzen!
To the top of the arena! Don't scale those walls!
Now sprint away! Dash away! Intercept away all!"
As dry leaves that before the druid hurricane fly,
When they meet with an elite, mount to the sky,
So up to the mountain-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of gnome bombs, and Dr. Crawler too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the mine
The prancing and pawning of each tiny nerf.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down from the sky Dr. Crawler came with a bound.
He was dressed all in twill, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with trolls and soot;
A bundle of nerfs he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a dev having just tossed back some Jack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! His nerfs how merry!
He smote those trolls, and then nerfed their parry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the jib of his chin laughed at the epic-so-ammo;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a crazy pally stroll,
That shook, when he nerfed their drunken face roll.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know that I had everything to dread;
He spoke but quaint word, and went straight to work,
Nerfing my class right in-front of my berth;
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the mine's wall he rose;
He sprang to the sleigh, out of range of my Storm,
And away they all flew like the down of the Nogg';
But I heard him exclaim, ere he flew out of sight,
"Happy Winter Veil's to all, and to all a nerffing night!"