HAPPY DRAVEN

Twas the night before Draven, when all through his house
Not a Noxian was stirring, not even a mouse.
The axes were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that victims soon would be there.

The fangirls were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Draven danced in their heads.
And LeBlanc in his robes, and Swain in his cap,
Had just settled their birdbrains for a long meeting's nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Swain sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window he CAW CAW CAW CAW CAW CAW'D like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen blood
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects in the flood.
When, what to his wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny Dravendeer.

With a young, handsome, stylish, sexy, cunning, killer, so DRAVEN driver, so lively and quick,
He knew in a moment it must be Draven.
More rapid than axes his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Draven 1! now, Draven 2! now, Draven 3 and 4!
On, Draven 5! On, Draven 6! on, on Draven 7 and more!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now Draven away! Draven away! Draven away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of axes, did The Glorious Draven too.

And then, in a twinkling, he heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As he drew in his head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Draven came with a bound.

He was dressed all in style, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of axes he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they Dravened! His dimples how Draven!
His cheeks were like Draven, his nose like a Draven!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the foo man chu of his face was as black as the crow.

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 little round tattoo,
That shook when he laughed, flexing his muscles too!

He was skinny and beautiful, like a jolly young elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
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 the stockings, 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 sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But he heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"It's not Draven, it's Draaaaaaaveeeeeeeeeeen!"