Tiny Tim is known for the statement, “God bless us, every one!,” which he offers as a blessing at Christmas dinner. Dickens repeats the phrase at the end of the story

Tiny Tim (real name “Timothy Cratchit”) (also known as “Trench Foot Tim”) is a fictional character in the classic story A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. He is the son of Bob Cratchit. It is claimed that the character is based on the invalid son of a friend of Dickens who owned a cotton mill in Ardwick, Manchester.

When Scrooge is visited by The Ghost of Christmas Present he is shown just how ill Tim really is, and that Tim will die unless he receives treatment. When visited by The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come all he sees of Tim is his crutch, as Tim has died. This, and several other visions, lead Scrooge to reform his ways. At the end of the story, Dickens makes it explicit that Tim did not die, and Scrooge became a “second father” to him. According to some other versions of A Christmas Carol, Tim Cratchit eventually gained health by Scrooge’s money, and later became a successful businessman. When Ebenezer Scrooge died, he became the only member of the Cratchit family to attend his funeral.

Dickens did not reveal in the book what Tiny Tim’s illness was, but renal tubular acidosis (a type of kidney failure causing the blood to become acidic) has been proposed as one possibility, as has rickets (caused by a lack of Vitamin D).[2][3] Or maybe it was polio. Or trench foot. Or foot-and-mouth syndrome, which was rampant in Victorian England.

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Twas the Night before Christmas Poem

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn 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-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!

Twas the Night before Christmas Poem

• Wish you a Merry Christmas and may this festival bring abundant joy and happiness in your life!
• May this Christmas be so special that you never ever feel lonely again and be surrounded by loved ones throughout!
• You are special, you are unique; may your Christmas be also as special and unique as you are! Merry Christmas!
• Here’s wishing you all the joys of the season. Wish you and your family a Merry Christmas!
• May joy and happiness snow on you, may the bells jingle for you and may Santa be extra good to you! Merry Christmas!
• May this Christmas be bright and cheerful and may the New Year begin on a prosperous note!
• Love, Peace and Joy came down on earth on Christmas day to make you happy and cheerful. May Christmas spread cheer in your lives!
• Sending the warmest Christmas wishes to you and your family. May God shower his choicest blessings on you and your family this Christmas!
• May all your days be merry and bright and may your Christmas be white! Merry Christmas!
• It is that time of the year again, when you are thankful for everything merry and bright. May this Christmas be a delight! Wishing you a Merry Christmas!
• May Christ bless you with all the happiness and success you deserve! Merry Xmas!
• I am dreaming of white Christmas, with every Christmas card I write, May your days be merry and bright, and May all your Christmases be white. Merry Christmas.
• May your world be filled with warmth and good cheer this Holy season, and throughout the year! Wish your Christmas be filled with peace and love. Merry Xmas.
• May the good times and treasures of the present become the golden memories of tomorrow. Wish you lots of love, joy and happiness. MERRY CHRISTMAS

Found while trolling /.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a computer was stirring, neither keyboard or mouse;
The packages were updated, each one with care,
In hopes that St. Linus soon would be there;

The daemons were idle using no CPU,
The firewall working left them nothing to do;
And mamma with her emerge, and I with apt-get,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s fetch,

When out on the net there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to kernel.org to see what was the matter.
Away to my browser I flew like a flash,
Opened a new tab and clicked the link mighty fast.

The words on my screen with release notes just so
Gave the lustre of mid-day to source code below,
When, what would make my wondering eyes smile,
But a official release in a gzipped tar file,

“Now, Red Hat! now, S.u.S.E.! now, Mandrake and Knoppix!
On, Slackware! on Debian! on Gentoo and Gnoppix!
To the nearest mirror! to the next major release!
Now build away! build away! build away all!

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the mirrors the hackers they flew,
To see their new toys, and thank St. Linus too.

He sprang to his keyboard, to his team sent a note,
And away they all flew to 2.7, new features they wrote,
But I heard him exclaim, ere make config was gone,
“HAPPY HACKING TO ALL, AND YOUR uptime RESTARTS AT DAWN!”

Click here to see the original Twas the Night Before Christmas Poem

Intel Night before Christmas
by Nabeel Ibrahim (ni@ieee.org)

‘Twas the night before Christmas,
And all over the ‘Net,
All the posts about Intel,
Made everyone fret,

The whiners were vocal,
They wouldn’t shut up,
Complaining about Intel’s,
FDIV cover up,

The engineers were nestled,
All snug in their labs,
Worrying about Intel’s,
Mistake in the fabs,

They made up excuses,
On how they’re affected,
They called upon Intel,
And were promptly rejected,

And soon IBM jumped,
Right into the fray,
“We’ll stop shipping Pentiums,
As of later today.”

But their statement was just,
More political lies,
Because they said the next day,
“We’re still shipping those dies!”

But from where came this noise,
And vindictive clatter,
About a minor flaw,
That should not have mattered,

Well there was a math Prof.,
Doing work in V A,
He came to realize that,
Divs shouldn’t happen this way,

So Prof. Nicely described,
The bug that he found,
It wasn’t too long later,
That news got around,

Lots of people complained,
Without reason or rhyme,
Just because number five,
Equalled four point nine nine,

The media latched on,
And rumors were spread,
It took no time to proclaim,
That Intel was dead,

As I was reading more news,
A thought came to me,
Intel can’t possibly die,
The have a monopoly,

So on Andy, on Craig,
On Gordon and Vin,
Make sure with P6,
This doesn’t happen again,

As I logged off, I thought:
“This debate is absurd.”
So I soon logged back in,
And uttered these words,

“There are too many issues,
I refuse to take sides.
Merry Christmas to all,
And watch your divides.”

HO, HO, HO!!

Click here to see the original Twas the Night Before Christmas Poem

Subject:      The Nights Before Christmas [Archive]
From:         jrf@NOSPAMcyberjunkie.com (JRF)

- The Input Process Before Christmas -
(Aka The Computer Version)

T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the shop,
The computers were whirring; they never do stop.
The power was on and the temperature right,
In hopes that the input would feed back that night.

The system was ready, the program was coded,
And memory drums had been carefully loaded;
While adding a Christmasy glow to the scene,
The lights on the console, flashed red, white and green.

When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
The programmer ran to see what was the matter.
Away to the hallway he flew like a flash,
Forgetting his key in his curious dash.

He stood in the hallway and looked all about,
When the door slammed behind him, and he was locked out.
Then, in the computer room what should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer;

And a little old man, who with scarcely a pause,
Chuckled: “My name is Santa…the last name is Claus.”
The computer was startled, confused by the name,
Then it buzzed as it heard the old fellow exclaim:

“This is Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen,
And Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen.”
With all these odd names, it was puzzled anew;
It hummed and it clanked, and a main circuit blew.

It searched in its memory core, trying to “think”;
Then the multi-line printer went out on the blink.
Unable to do its electronic job,
It said in a voice that was almost a sob:

“Your eyes – how they twinkle – your dimples so merry,
Your cheeks so like roses, your nose like a cherry,
Your smile – all these things, I’ve been programmed to know,
And at data-recall, I am more than so-so;

But your name and your address (computers can’t lie),
Are things that I just cannot identify.
You’ve a jolly old face and a little round belly,
That shakes when you laugh like a bowlful of jelly;

My scanners can see you, but still I insist,
Since you’re not in my program, you cannot exist!”
Old Santa just chuckled a merry “ho, ho”,
And sat down to type out a quick word or so.

The keyboard clack-clattered, its sound sharp and clean,
As Santa fed this “data” to the machine:
“Kids everywhere know me; I come every year;
The presents I bring add to everyone’s cheer;

But you won’t get anything – that’s plain to see;
Too bad your programmers forgot about me.”
Then he faced the machine and said with a shrug,
“Merry Christmas to All,” as he pulled out its plug,

“And to all, a good night!”

Click here to see the original Twas the Night Before Christmas Poem

A Hacker’s Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
Not a computer was stirring, not even a mouse.
The hard drives were left on in each computer case
With a database for Santa, punched up in dBase.

The hackers were all snug asleep in their beds,
While visions of access codes danced in their heads.
And I with my PC and Ma with her Mac,
Had settled in for a long winter’s nap.

When up from my modem there arose such a squeal,
I jumped from my bed and said, “What’s the deal!!?!?”
To my computer I tore like a flash,
Hoping I wasn’t suffering a Christmas Eve Crash.

A flashing green light on the front of my case,
Showed late-night activity (I hope not erase).
I turned on my monitor and what did appear,
But a .GIF old sleigh and eight blinking reindeer.

On a flashing bright icon I made a quick click,
And sure enough who appeared, but good old Saint Nick.
At 9600 baud the images they came,
As he loaded them up, he called them by name.

“Load Windows and Lotus, Prodigy and Quicken,
Add brand new DOS upgrades, and games for the children.
To the old root directory, to make room for them all,
How about a new hard drive, this one’s all full!

As I watched as he worked through the database with care,
Checking the gift list we had left there.
He searched into his bag and pulled out with aplomb,
Bright shiny new discs for the new CD-ROM.
A brand new fax-modem (well, who asked for that!?!?),
Bundles of SIMMS, co-processors galore,
From one board to another, he filled up each hole.
And when he was finished, the tower cases were full,
With fun new software, just ready to install.

Then lining the cursor alongside of his nose,
Out of my new SVGA, up slowly he rose.
He jumped out of DOSSHELL, my SoundBlaster did sound,
As the TSR fell away, ’til next Christmas comes around.

Then I heard him exclaim as he up-loaded from sight,
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good byte!!

Click here to see the original Twas the Night Before Christmas Poem

From: Gordie Zeigler
Date: 2004-12-17

“A Visit from old St. Geek”

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a hard drive was whirring, nor clicking of mouse;
The PC’s were unplugged from the network with care,
In hopes that a new version soon would be there;

The users were safe at home in their beds,
While screenshots of a new interface danced in their heads;
And the sys admin in his jeans, and I in my suede,
Had just hunkered down for a version upgrade,

When from the hard drive there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the seat to see what was the matter.
It clanged and it ground and smoke it did spew
And I swore I could smell the NIC frying too.

I reached for the keyboard and those magic three keys
But not in time could I get to “CTRL-ALT-DELETE”
The hard drive kept charging like some renegade
And I knew we were at the mercy of this version upgrade.

So outside I went for a nicotine binge
Knowing my job on this upgrade did hinge!
The vendor had promised this software would work!
But now where was he? At home, like a jerk!

The moon shone bright on the two cars in the lot
Just mine and the sys admin’s, that sorry sot.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
A man in a VeeDub, smiling from ear to ear.

In his bag he carried books of languages of yore,
Pascal, Fortran, Cobol, Basic and more.
With a pocket protector and a shirt that was untucked,
I knew my problems were solved; I was no longer in trouble.

Yes I knew in an instant tho I could hardly speak,
I had been blessed by a visit from old St. Geek.
His clothes were unkempt; his shoes could have been cleaner,
But I was just happy to see his calm demeanor.

I stood there staring like a stop for the door
When he snapped his fingers and said, “Quick! To the raised floor!”
So I led the way down the halls to the IT server room
I led him in the door and not a moment too soon.

He jumped to the console and had nary a query,
The sys admin was nervous but I said, “Don’t be leery,”
“This man is exactly the resource we seek,”
“This man is none other than old St. Geek!”

With sweat from his brow and fingers that blazed,
He tickled the keyboard o’er the floor that was raised.
He got to a dialog where I thought he should click “OK”
But he knew the renegade software would say, “No Way”

With skill and aplomb he rescued our server,
He answered each prompt with incredible fervor.
The noise from the hard drive began to slowly subside,
And I could tell he’d be successful in turning the tide.

The server stopped groaning, and clanking and clinking
Not long after that the right lights were blinking.
He glanced at us over his shoulder, never missing a command,
And with a wink and a nod, said, “Who’s your Geek, man?”

He cleaned up the evidence of our upgrade gone awry,
And I knew in the morning the CIO would not cry.
My job would be spared and I am eternally glad,
For old St. Geek and the bag of tricks that he had.

He returned to his VeeDub and opened the moon roof
And ‘ere we could snap a picture to claim as our proof
He punched it and laid rubber but I did hear him say,
“Happy Holidays to all, and to all, safe upgrades!”

© Gordie Zeigler 12/2004, NewVa Corridor Technology Council
Obviously inspired by Clement Clark Moore

–
Gordie Zeigler, Executive Director
NCTC
108 N. Jefferson, Suite 306
Roanoke, VA 24016
in the Roanoke Higher Education Center
http://www.TheTechnologyCouncil.com

Click here to see the original Twas the Night Before Christmas Poem

Originally published in:
The Durham Herald-Sun

‘Twas the Night Before …
by Miriam Murdock of Chapel Hill

Twas the night before Christmas, and all thru the house
Every creature was stirring, yes, even the mouse.
The only one not raising clamor and clatter
Was the turkey defrosting upon his white platter.

Aunt Bonnie was upchucking about every hour
And, Freddy was howling with all his lung power.
Mama stood there patting him, head drooping low
Till papa took over for an hour or so.

Lights flashed on and off in every new room
And fan and disposal did rumble and boom
Freddy’s stocking was hung by the chimney with care,
But with all the commotion, how did it stay there?

But Santa still came, with Bonnie and Charlie
And in spite of it all our Christmas was jofly.

Click here to see the original Twas the Night Before Christmas Poem

“Well Dear,” Missus Valve asks adoringly of her hubby,
“are you going to get any of the children Christmas
presents this year?”

“Have I ever had to before?  You just leave it to me!
Gather up the little shi’ er ah, kids, and tell em ta meet
me downstairs in front of the tree.”

“Now honey buns, you aren’t going to do anything
foolish now are you? After all, this is the first time
the relatives have entrusted us to care for their kids
through the holidays.”

“Don’t nag me woman! I know what I’m doing!
I’m just gonna tell em a little Christmas story, that’s all.”

Missus Valve trys her best to conceal a frown and
hesitantly proceeds down the stairs. “Come children,
your Uncle Willie wants to tell you all a Christmas story.”

“Unkie Wiwwy, Unkie Wiwwy, are you gowing to tewwus
that stowy bout wumzy duh wed bashing wepubwican?”
You pwamissed!  You pwamissed!”

“Nah! lissen up, I got a better one.
It’s time you kids learned the story of Satan Nick,
so each’a yez take a seat, at arms length from
each other, buttun yer lips, and don’t interrupt.”

There once was a man,
twas the scourge of the land.
who, traveled around
with a sinister plan.

Possessing as slaves,
a commune of midgits,
he whipped and he beat,
whilst they made for him widgits.

From ordinary widjets,
one could not tell,
these were magically cast
from a COMMUNIST spell.

With a team of wild beasts
to ferret him forth,
he beset on the world
from his cave in the north.

Many were fooled
by the gifts he did give,
when he broke and he entered
the homes where they live.

For Tim a guitar amp,
made with tran-zisters.
He played till his fingers,
blood raw with blisters

He grew his hair long
and married a tramp.
Played hippy dip songs
with his solid-state amp.

As the spell on the amp
took over his soul
he spiraled to hell
in a Commie Black Hole

When, with comrades of ilk,
the Nam war he protested,
in the end twas his fate,
he was shot and arrested.

For Suzy was left,
a small book she did read,
which es-poused the evil
of communist creed.

After reading this book
she smoked crack and did whore,
contracted VD,
even voted for Gore

She fell in with communists,
eco-nut-kooks,
went on to author
more communist books

In case you are wondering,
where can she be?
she was eaten by bears,
whilst huggin a tree.

And old Satan Nick
some call “Commie Claus”
is delightfully laughing and
and mincing his paws.

His sinister plan
has worked once again,
he’s spread cross the land
this communist *sin*.

For in giving gifts
and sharing of love
his *evil* is spread
from the north, up above.

So, when Christmas trees
are lighted with lights
remember Timmy and Suzy,
their Chrstmas-time plights.

“Ok kids, off to bed now,
ya gotta get up early and open those presents.”

“Uuhhhhhh, that’s ok Unkie Wiwwy,
we don’t weewy want any pwesents.”

Click here to see the original Twas the Night Before Christmas Poem