Dr. James P. Wickstrom
'Twas The Night Before Hannukah
'Twas the night before Hannukah,
When all through the Temple...
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even Streisand as Yentl...
The money changers were nestled all snug in their beds,
As visions of high interest rates danced in their heads...
And Golda Meier in her scarf, and Ben Gurion in his hat band,
Had just SETTLED down illegally on Palestinian land...
When out in the Mediterrranean, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my Sukkot to see what was the matter...
Away to the window I flew like a Jericho missile,
Tore open the shutters and threw up a matzoh ball...
The moon on the breast of the jew-fallen snow,
Gave the luster of a diamond to objects below...
When, what to my ogling eyes should appear,
But a miniature goy, and I think he's a queer...
With a little old Gentile so lively and willing to do manual labor,
I knew in a moment it wasn't a Jew...
Faster than a spinning dreidel his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted and called them by non-Hebrew names...
Now Tyler! Now Cooper! Now Taylor, Now Tristan!,
On Dillon! On Mason! On Carson and Griffin!...
To the top of the Tabernacle! To the Top of the Western Wall,
Now go away! Go away! Go away, Goy, ALL!...
As paper money that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle (the tax man) down on the sly...
So up to the Temple-top this goyim he flew,
With a sleigh full of toys, he paid RETAIL, TOO!!!
And then I heard tinkling up on the roof,
and prancing and pawing of what sounded like hoofs...
As I drew in my yarmulke and was turning around,
Down the chimney this fat, drunk goy came with a bound...
He was dressed all in fur (What did he pay for that?) from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with Auschwitz soot...
A bundle of goy toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a merchant, from west of Hackensack...
