T'was The Night Before Froglock
by Captain Frog
(with apologies to Mr. Moore)

T'was the night before Froglock when all through the bog
Not a creature was hopping, not even a frog.
The stockings were hung by the wild reeds with care
In hopes that St. Frog-a-locks soon would be there.

The tadpoles were nestled all snug in their pads
While visions of fruit flies were dreams that they had.
And mama in her rain hat and me in my hood
Had just settled our flippers for a deep sleep so good.

When out on the bog there came such a noise
I sprang from my pad to yell at the boys.
I flew oer the pad to see what's the matter
To discover the source of the noise and the clatter.

The moon was so bright off the new fallen snow
It looked like bright daylight to this froggy below.
When what to my big eyes flew across the bright moon
Eight slimy geckos pulling a big ole' buffoon.

I knew when I saw him, he was pudgy and round,
That St. Froggy would soon come down to the ground.
 Faster than 'skeeters' they streaked through the sky
Heading for their next stop in the twinkling of an eye.

He called out their names as he passed oer the pad
"Now, Fergie! Now, Freddie! Now, Eddie and Regis!
On, Roger! On, Ravi! On Davie and Clevus!
To the top of the cat-tails! To the top of the reeds!
Now flit away, flit away, flit away steeds!"

They were faster than fleas on an old dog's back,
When they bumped into something, they never lost track,
To the frog bog they flew in as quick as a blink
With St. Frog-a-locks and toys and an old kitchen sink.

Then next to my pad I heard a shuffling and slurp
And the pop and the hop of each little 'herp.
As I pulled back to look and was turning around,
Down the cat-tail slid Frog-a-locks with a bounce and a pound.

He was dressed in all green from his head to his flipper
And his hat what a mess and his coat had no zipper.
A big bag of toys he had over his back
And he looked like a frog in search of a snack.

His eyes how they bulged out they searched the pad over
I thought he would croak like a frog deep in clover.
His mouth was a permanent smile on his face
And his cheeks were all puffy to round out his grace.

As he hopped on the pad I could tell by his look
There was nothing to fear and no need to get shook.
This jolly old frog was here on a mission
To pass out his joy without one omission.

Not a sound not a peep but straight to his work
Stuffing polliwog stockings and then with a jerk
Leaped back up the cat-tail leaped hard as he could
To the sled to the sky to others who were good.

He sprang to his sled, gave the geckos a yell
And away they all went with a wave and farewell.
I heard him quite clear before his vision did shrink,
"What am I to do with this old kitchen sink?"

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