Tuesday, December 23 2008
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the casa,
It reeked with the smoke from my Don Lino Africa;
My
humidor was placed by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Arganese danced in my
head;
And Mom in her 'kerchief, and I in my robe,
Had just settled down for a long winter's smoke;
When out on the lawn dropped a Honduran bundle,
I sprang from my chair and started to stumble.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and reached for the stash;
Moonlight on the wrappers of fresh-rolled cigars
Gave them a luster like thousands of stars;
When, what to my wondering eyes was appearing,
Dozens of 601 boxes, how endearing!
With my sharp cigar cutter, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment I'd light-up a stick.
More rapid than eagles the cigars they all came,
I whistled and shouted, and called them by name;
Perdomos! Cusanos! Luscious Dominicans!
On Fuente! On Tempus! On Avo! On Griffins!
To the top of the porch to the top of the wall!
I was smoking so fast, I had just smoked them all!
As long leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
My only obstacle, was keeping them dry,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With a sleigh full of ACID and CAO's too;
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I sniffed I smelled smoke, and from what I could tell,
Down the chimney he came with a Rocky Patel;
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all covered with ashes and soot;
With a bundle of Dominique flung on his back,
He looked like a smoker and opened his pack;
The cigars - how they twinkled! Their wrappers how smooth!
La Floriditas, with nary a tooth!
His droll little mouth was red as a rash,
And the beard of his chin was as white as an ash;
With the stump of a Graycliff held tight in his teeth,
The smoke encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and took out a cutter,
Then clipped his cigar like a pro, smooth as butter;
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I watched as he placed a Padron on the shelf;
With a wink of his eye and a nod of his head,
That's when I knew I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled up my humidor, then turned with a jerk,
As I placed in his fingers some aged Romeos
In a huge gust of smoke, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, and whistled with glee
While he puffed with delight on an Oliva V
Then I heard him exclaim, as he took one last toke,
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD SMOKE!"
~Gary Korb
