Monday, May 11, 2015

With apologies to Clement Moore.

Twas the night before States, when all through the school,
The exhibit boards, curling, it just wasn't cool.
The costumes were hung, ready for wear,
In hopes that NHD judges soon would be there;

The competitors were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of history danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and Dad filled with fear,
Had just requested a vacation day, hoping to cheer.

When out in cyberspace there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-planted fields,
Gave reminders to pick up reserved van keys - and YIELD!
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a final, request for proofreading, be a dear?

With a little pencil, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment this project was slick!
A new process paper, and polished resources,
I whistled, and shouted, without remorse.

"Now, Mackenzies! now, Clark now, Niamh and Ella!
On, Kylee! on Aiden on, James and Jenna!
On Emily and Joanna,
There's no time for breakfast, just grab a banana!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
We're ready for judging, we can not deny,
So off to the competition the coursers they flew,
With the van full of props, and an exhibit board, or two.

The kids were excited to be on this team,
Region 9 was a memory, or was it a dream?
"We're ready, we're polished, we're all taking showers,"

"I bought new shoes, and a dress covered with flowers."

The guillotine might not be the weirdest prop,
When you consider that Edgar dude with hair like a mop;
Henry VIII bumped off wives, but he trusted Will Somers,
He was a heck of a Jester, and maybe a drummer?.

And Teddy, with specs borrowed to spy,
will add just the look to James' baby blue eye;
Trains full of orphans, saved from certain demise,

caused Niamh and Mackenzie this certain reprise.

Jimmy Carter sent letters, to Jenna to help,
Severin Fayerman answered questions, with nary a yelp,
"Ballachine,"cried Emily wildly,
"Robsepierre," sobbed Kylee, to put it mildly.

Tomorrow we'll spring to our vans, to our team give a whistle,
And away we'll all fly like the down of a thistle. *
Mrs. Brengel keeps saying, "Where's Mrs. Heydt?"


 *Observing all posted speed limits

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