T'was the night before Christmas and all through our town,
No noses were frozen, no snow fluttered down.
No children in flannels were tucked into bed;
They all wore their shorty pajamas instead.
To find wreaths of holly was not very hard,
for holly trees sprouted right in the backyard.
In front of the houses were daddies and moms,
Admiring the bushes and coconut palms.
The slumbering kiddies wee dreaming in glee,
and hoped they'd find water skis under the tree.
They all know that Santa was well on his way,
in a Mercedes-Benz instead of a slay.
And soon he arrived and started to work,
He hadn't a second to linger or shirk.
He whizzed over the highways and zoomed up the roads
in a shiny new sports car delivering his loads.
The tropical moon gave the city a glow
and lighted the way for Santa below.
As he jumped from the auto, he gave a wee chuckle.
He was dressed in Bermudas with an Ivy League buckle.
There weren't any chimneys, but that caused no gloom,
for Santa came in through the Florida room.
He stopped at each house and stopped only a minute
and emptied his sack of the stuff that was in it.
Before he departed, he treated himself
to a glass of papaya juice left on the shelf.
Then he turned with a jerk and bounced back to the car,
remembering he still had to go very far.
He stepped on the gas and put it in gear
and drove through our streets singing with cheer.
And I heard him exclaim as he went on his way ...
"Merry Christmas, Florida", I wish I could stay.