Don’t get me wrong. I think Clement C. Moore threw together an excellent bit of rhyming in his day.
My favorite parts are the classic words one just doesn’t hear anymore; like sash, lustre, and droll.
That, and the specific stanza
But, I just can’t stand reading it anymore.
Okay, okay -I can tolerate once. Only the original version, however.
I have a medically-certified reaction to knock-offs. The doctor was a questionnaire online and the tests run were a personal evaluation of how much I wanted to throttle the author of each parody -but, still certified.
“‘Twas the night before Thanksgiving / and all through our den / Not a turkey was clucking / Or even a hen.”
My body jerks, like a convulsion. I’m reminded of the times I felt sick but was straining to not vomit, like during pregnancy.
My blood pressure rises. My fingers begin twitching, itching to banish the sorry knock-off to the Downvote Pit of Internetland forever.
I’ll rip their attempt at poetry from their webpage, light it on fire, then burn down the rest of their creative works to keep this brainlessness under wraps.
Or, I’ll realize what’s going on by the second line and simply not read it.