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Poem: T’was the Week Before Christmas

After Clement Clarke Moore
Annie Spratt
Photo via Unsplash

T’was the week before Christmas and all through CA

Mr. Crawford was stirring, with plans for the day

The hoses were coiled in the parking lot with care

In hopes that ice sheets would soon be forming there


The students were nestled, restless in class,

While visions of no school made time wish to pass;

And Mr. Crawford in his snow cap, for the students own sake,

Had just hosed the parking lot for a long winter’s break


When out in the lot, there arose such a clatter

Of water on pavement, of ice that could shatter

Away to the windows, students flew in a flash 

Teachers nearly trampled in the mad, hurried dash 


“School is canceled for ice!” came the jubilant cry 

Dismissed for the holidays, with relief all did sigh

Books were collected and backpacks were packed

“Aw yeah!” cried the students. “Let’s go home and nap!”


The sun shone off the top of the fresh frozen ice 

Gave a glimmer of hope for a long winter’s paradise 

When, what should the students’ busy eyes find

But the academy truck, with the wheels aligned.


And a certain vice-principal, on the frozen ice water

I knew in a moment it must be Mr. Crawford.

More rapid than reindeer everyone came,

And he teased, and hollered, and called them by name;


“Now Seniors! Now Juniors! Now Sophomores! and Freshmen! 

Look Foster! Look Renslow! Look Baldwin and Mcquistan!

At the top of his voice! He shouted and called!

Now go home! Go home! Go home all!


He sprang to his car, to the school gave a whistle, 

And away he then drove into the after-school bustle.

But I heard him exclaim, with his smile agape,



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