Twas the night before Christmas,
and all through the Craft Ale House,
all the customers were drinking,
but not to get soused.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hoped that there wouldn't soon be a fire scare.
And Dan was in the cooler all bundled in coats,
he was checking out the beer freshness, by pouring it down his throat.
Gary and Mellisa were dressed to the nines,
and hoping that St. Nick would be right on time.
When out in the lot we heard such a clatter,
we sprang from our bar seats to see what was the matter.
When what to my wandering eyes should appear,
but an SUV filled with Troegs gear.
With a young driver so lively and quick,
we knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick.
More rapid then the Eagles the beer courses they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
"on 19, on 21 on 25 and 24, get into the cooler and lets start to pour!"
The scratch beers did as they were told,
as well as Hopback, Dreamweaver and the Mad Elfs of old.
With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
we knew right away our livers had plenty to dread.
He spoke hardly a word, but went straight to his work
and filled all the glasses with his fine firkin work.
He sprang to his bar seat and gave the help a whistle,
and they all came running like he was under some mistle.
But I heard him exclaim as we drank out of sight,
HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!