Twas The Night Before Christmas
And except for emailers
Not a creature was stirring
Not even hi-railers.
The switches were placed on the layout with care
In hopes that A.C. Gilbert soon would be there.
The Flyers were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of Royal Blues danced in their heads.
And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap.
When down in the basement there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the staircase I flew in a fright,
Tore open the door and flipped on the light.
The glow of fluorescent on the concrete floor
Told me in a moment there must be more.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a 4-6-2, and stout engineer.
With six drivers in front, pulling a Northern tender,
I knew in a moment it must be A.C., but not very slender.
More rapid than wind-ups, his Flyers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.
"Now, Steamer! Now, Switcher! Now, Alco and Baldwin!
On, Pacific! On Northern! On, Atlantic and Hudson!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Now choo away! Choo away! Choo-choo away all!"
As liquid smok