‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through Citi Field,
No trades were stirring, not one single deal!
All the pennants were hung in the outfield with care,
In the hopes that another one soon would be there
The fans were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of a World Championship danced in their heads.
Omar in his kerchief and Wilpon in his cap,
Had just settled their brains for a long winter’s nap!
When out on the field there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear?
A winning team that seemed oh so near!
With a bat in his hands, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles, the team members came,
as he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
“Now David, Now K-Rod, Now Frenchy, Now Johan,
On Jose, On Pelfrey, On Luis, On Beltran!”
At the edge of the fence, to the top of the wall,
Now trade away, trade away, trade away all.
He was dressed in blue and orange from his head to his foot,
His uniform was messy and there was dirt in his boots.
A bundle of superstars he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a GM just opening his pack!
He spoke not a word and went straight to his work,
Then filled all the lockers and turned with a jerk.
And I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all and to all a good fight!”