'Twas the nite before Xmas, when all thru the pad,
Not a hipster was stirring, like square, man, real sad!
The leotards hung by the drain pipes with care,
Like hoping Santa Daddyo soon would be there.
The kids with the Demerol bit, tucked in their sacks,
Like in orbit with Morpheus, man, flat on their backs.
Mom made with the nouriture bit, Dadayo hit the pot,
Prepping for the ball, with the beats and what not.
Then on the lid of the pad, steamed a rumble, real mad.
I cut-out like a cycle-type to see what gave, Dad.
Then what to my flipped optics should like appear,
An ice-rod, hauled by 8 Rudolphs, real queer!
And who should be conning them, snug in his seat,
Was a fat little cat with a beard, man, real beat.
Hey like Donder, Cupid, Dancer and Blitzen,
Go Dasher! Go Comet! Go Prancer! Go Vixen!
This fat little hipster, after making the scene,
Slipped down the soot-stack, like a bucket of steam.
Hey like man, he's the most, Santa Daddyo with pipe,
Like covered with soot, man, real dirty, our type.
His orbits were electric, they'd make a chick flip,
When he laughed he would shake like a jazz-cat, real hip!
He lugged on his back a sack full of loot,
Bongos for Georgie and for Fingers-a flute.
Bugsie got a Benny, while Weirdo some pot,
Books of Zen for the other cats, making the lot.
Santa and Daddy after meditating with all of us hips,
Like a gas man, a real gas, getting with the bit,
Was cutting out - but before he left us far-out types -
Made with -- 'Merry Xmas to all, and to all a good nite!'
By John Peterson
Christmas 1960