‘Twas the Night before Yoda Yulefest . . .

I hosted my second annual Yoda Yulefest party yesterday. It featured Santa Yoda cookies, Star Wars Christmas music, Star Wars Christmas decorations, and a reading of ‘Twas the Night Before Yuletide. I rewrote the classic in honour of Santa Yoda, and the piece was performed with much gusto by kc dyer during the evening festivities.

I’ve had a lot of requests to post the story, so here it is, in all of its geekific glory:

‘Twas the night before Yuletide, not a sound to be heard
From a geek, from a dork, not even a nerd .  .  .
The sabres were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Master Yoda soon would be there.

The Padawans were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of green aliens danced in their heads.
With a sigh and a smile I took off my geek cap
Put down my old comics and prepared for a nap.

Sabers hung by the chimney with care.

When out in the galaxy arose such a boom,
I sprang from the bed in a fast, nerd-like zoom.
Away to the window I flew like The Flash,
Tore open the blinds like an X-wing crash.

The stars glimmered above in a marvellous sky,
Giving lustre to objects that soared up so high,
When, what to my spectacled eyes should appear,
But a tiny green space ship and a Jedi so near.

Yoda cookies

My nerdy senses suddenly reached their quota,
And I knew it a moment, it must be old Yoda.
With his friends from a galaxy far, far away,
Their names he called out, in a voice clear as day:

“Now Luke, now Leia, 3PO and Obi-wan,
On Anakin, R2, Chewbacca and Han!’
To the dunes of Tatoonie, to the swampy Dagobah!
Let’s flee these sorry geeks before some foofaraw!”

As nerds whimper before a big bully’s fists fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, break down and cry,
So up to the house-top wee Yoda did soar,
With a galaxy of wisdom, for all to adore.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard from above,
The coo of an alien, like the sound of a dove,
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney old Yoda then came with a bound.

He was dressed all in red, from his feet to his ears,
And he looked tho’ he must have lived nine hundred years;
A bundle of sayings he had on his tongue,
Ready to dole out to the old and the young.

Santa Yoda.

His eyes — how they twinkled!  His ears twitched so merry!
With his little green cheeks, he looked just like a fairy!
His droll, wrinkled mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the fuzz on his head was as white as the snow.

The cane he held tight in his gnarled little claw,
He then started to dance without fumble or flaw.
With his very broad belly and round little face,
He looked far more jolly than old Jedi Mace.

He was truly so small, but suddenly I thought,
This is Master Yoda, and size matters not.
He looked at me then, with a wink of his eye,
And said, “Do or do not, there is no try.”

Then he smiled and passed on just a few more words,
Of support for all the world’s dorks and the nerds,
And laying his finger at the base of his chin,
Went back up the chimney, without any din.

Unburdened of thoughts, he climbed into his vessel,
And launched into the sky, like the Falcon ran the Kessel,
But I heard him exclaim, right before his ship flew,
“Good tidings to all—and may the force be with you.”

Yoda.

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