On the day before Christmas, vans aren’t precise,
Their mattresses slide, bearing terrified mice.
The sidewalks are strewn with couches and clutter
In hope of old pickups that grumble and stutter.
The bedbugs were nestled all snug in the beds;
While visions of blood types danced in their heads.
Mama in her ‘kerchief, and I in my hat,
Had just signed a lease right next to a frat
When out on the sidewalk there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from our bedsit to check out the matter
Away to the window I flew like a flash
And tripped on our boxes, which fell in a crash.
The reflection of sun off the broken TVs
Was fitfully shaded by infrequent trees.
Then what inconceivable vision encroaches,
But a 16v pickup and eight tiny roaches?
The beater-clad driver, his biceps aglow,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Bro.
More rapid than vultures his brothers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Brometheus! Broseidon! Ambrosius, and Hermes!
On, Bacchus! on, Cupid! Gronkowski, Brochilles!
To the top of the stoop! to the top of the wall!
Now pick it up! Pile it on! Load it up all!”
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So over the sidewalks the coursers they flew
With the truck full of lampstands and sofas and brew —
At the end of the block, all their treasures well-crammed,
They wound their way out to the Storrow Drive jam.
And I heard St. Bro shout, ere he drove out of sight —
“Allston Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
— poem by J. Nathan Matias and Dr. H.
Other Great Boston Holiday Comedy
If you liked this poem, you might enjoy Nathan’s Boston Magazine article on Which Boston Neighborhoods are Worst at Holiday Cooking?
This great BostonInno article offers data and history on the annual Allston Christmas tradition .
After we wrote this, we learned about the Allston Christmas Carolers, who have written similar parody poems and also have an album. (!)