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Solie's Tuesday Morning Report

Dedicated to Gordon Solie
January 29, 1929 - July 27, 2000

A Christmas Poem

by Earl Oliver
with apologies to Clement Moore

Volume 6, Issue 716 - December 24, 2002
Editor's Note: I decided, since it was such a big hit the last six years, to republish my (slightly edited) version of this famous Christmas poem...

A Christmas Poem

(With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)

'Twas the night before Christmas and all round the ring.
Not a creature was stirring, not a dad-blasted thing.
All the ring ropes were hung round the apron with care,
in hopes that the wrestling fans soon would be there.
The tickets were sold, the nachos were hot.
The vendors were ready - there were fights to be fought.
I sat in the office awaiting the action,
with visions of putting on a major attraction.

When out in the lobby there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away up the aisle I flew like a flash,
jumping the barrier, avoiding the trash.
The worklight reflecting the newly washed mat,
gave a eerie pale glowing - or something like that...
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,
but who was wearing some tights and boots with soles thick.
He was ready for action, at least so it seemed,
he was older than dirt, he would likely get creamed.
But he was determined, a fight he would make,
and I figured he might be a good match for the "Snake".

Now the wrestlers arrived and before I could shout,
he was right in their faces, he was calling them out!
"Now, Angle! Now, D-Von! Now, Bubba and Benoit! On, Christian!
On, Lesnar On, SmackDown and on RAW!
From the top of the heap to the jobber on call,
I'll bust you all up, I'll take every fall!"

So up to the ring like the dickens they flew,
with Hunter Hearst Helmsley and Saint Nicolas too!
And then in a twinkling, I heard the bell sound,
the wrestlers went over the ring to surround.
It's a handicap match he shouted with glee,
"...the numbers are even...all of you against me!"

He was dressed in all fur, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all covered with ashes and soot.
He was really a mess but it made him look fierce,
as the entire arena his war-cry did pierce.
His movements so fluid, his chops were like lightning
When he bulked-up and posed, it was really quite frightning.

The Rock was up first, his feint was a ploy
as Santa said "You've been a very bad boy!"
Edge tried to grab him, but his blows didn't land,
as bunches of fur came off in his hand.
Santa just sidestepped the wrestlers' mad rush,
then brought down a forearm, their hopes he did crush.
Then Stone Cold attacked, and was knocked on his can,
then Angle was pummeled, and Kane turned and ran.
The Undertaker walked on the ropes then fell down,
the King was knocked out to the floor on his crown.

The Big Show then slipped as he walked up the stairs,
Rikishi went flying - they were losing in pairs!
Ric Flair went "wooooo..." as he fell on his face
And Santa just laughed as he stepped up the pace.
Y2J was edged out, Rob Van Dam just got creamed,
there were bodies all over, it was like a bad dream...
He was everywhere at once, he moved like a flash,
he gouged this one's eyes and that one he splashed.

He handled them all with the greatest of ease,
Then he looked at the time, and collected his fees.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, to the top rope he rose.
He said "Oh goodness! I've got to be gone."
"I've a long night ahead" he said with a yawn.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a shout,
the fight was all over, he'd layed them all out!
But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all..."

At least that's the way I see it...

Earl Oliver
Editor, Solie's Wrestling Newsletter


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This page is a personal tribute and is in no way connected to any of the wrestling promotions mentioned on it. It is dedicated to the memory of the Dean of Wrestling announcers, Gordon Solie.

Copyright 2001 - Jump City Productions


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