‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the bar
Not a drink was being stirred, not even a sidecar.
The neon lights were hung by the windows with care,
In hopes that more regulars soon would be there.
The bottles were nestled all snug in their coozies,
While double vision plagues those who were boozie.
And the bartender in her hoodie and I in my wrap,
Had just ordered another round for a long winter’s nightcap.
That’s all I got … drop the mic.