‘Twas the night before Christmas of a hazardous year
Santa was safe at home with the clan of Claus
Elves were loading gifts in Santa’s new sleigh
Reindeer were dreaming in their stalls
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, with the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
In a legend the elders foretold
Of the quest for the southwestern gold
On the glittering sands
Of the equine’s homeland
Where brave horses are spirited souls
I am still under the impression that there is nothing alive quite so beautiful as a horse.
Neither smoke nor mirrors play a part
In the great magician’s secret art
No legerdemain
Just a cabinet plain
No gamed sword blade or feign of fake sort
I was a magician’s assistant and had to go in the box that they put the swords through, and there’s no trick to it. You literally have to dodge the swords.
Charlotte was born in a burlesque star’s trunk
On the bump-and-grind road to old Podunk
With the tricks of the trade
Charlotte played backstage
And dreamed her name up in lights from her bunk
“Remember: there are no small parts, only small actors.”