Linking your favorite traveling artists across the globe
Eleven plus years ago, around this time of year, I took a well known Christmas story and Goreanized it. I ran across it the other day and decided to post it hoping that it would bring a smile
'Twas the night before GorMass, and all throughout Gor
Not a wee urt was stirring, nor giving out a snore;
The slave whips were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that naughty kajirae would learn to beware.
The Masters were nestled all snug in their beds,
With visions of slavegirls dancing in their heads;
And my FC in her robes, and I in my kilt,
Had just settled down for a glass of bosk milk,
When out on the high bridge there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my furs to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and flicked out a lash.
The 3 moon's light on the high bridge below
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When up in the sky before my startled eyes was seen
But a tiny wagon, and eight tiny sleen,
With a handsome studly driver,so arrogant without cause,
I knew in a moment it must be Ubar Claus.
More rapid than tarns his sleens they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
Now, MASHER! now, LANCER! now, WENCHER and LISTON!
On, GROMMET! on STUPID! on, BLONDER and ZITZEN!
To the top of the tower! to the top of Ar's wall!
Now slither away! slither away! slither away all!"
As the Turians before the mighty Tuchuks fly,
When they meet with a Warrior whom gold cannot buy,
So up to the top of the cylinder the sleens they flew,
With the wagon full of paga, and Ubar Claus too.
And then, in a ehn, I heard on the roof
The scraping and clinking of each little clawed hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Ubar Claus came with a bound.
He was dressed all in red, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of loot he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a Merchant just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they shifted! his muscles how scary!
His fists were like iron, his nose like a ramberry!
His cruel mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And his skin was rosey with a paga glow.
The blade of a quiva he held tight in his teeth,
And his manner bespoke of "don't give me no grief."
He had a tight ass and a nice firm belly,
He gave me such a look it turned my knees to jelly
He was lean and mean and quite sure of himself,
And I shook when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I would have been better off staying in bed;
He grunted out "Tal", pulled his sword with a jerk,
Emptied a bota of my finest kalana; then turned to his work,
And tossing my FC over his shoulder after smashing my nose,
He gave a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He trudged to his wagon, to his sleens gave a holler,
And hastily tied down my FC and on her neck placed a collar.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"HAPPY GORMASS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"
© 2023 Created by Rev. Allen M. Drago ~ Traveler. Powered by