Bestowethe -- by thy bearded gnome, of suited red and chimney wrent, descend to yon rumpus room, and de-bag as only thine is capable, sumptuous visual repast to pillowed youts, fast in slumber in 'jacent room. Waddle-saunter forth and quaff thy pale elixir of cow, and sweetened goods of deep bake, then ascend once more pitted chamber of hearth, to roof line above, as hoofed conveyance stamps thirty two deep in yon snowy, chill air.
Off with thee, fattened, whiskered sedge-elf, in rapt-repeatance, as oft as possible, before dawn's pale amber descends upon chimney-ed cores, and joyous crescendo rises up to thy chill of early dawn: "wow, look at all the neato stuff"! T'is little wonder, thine most joyous, single day of year hath an equal like no 0ther.
-Wilson² Shakespeare