A fitting end to 1992, with the blockbuster satirical poem;

‘Twas The Night After Christmas

‘Twas the night after Christmas
And all throughout this dive,
Not a nurse was seen stirring
Nor their patents alive,
The Foleys were hung
At the beds, what a chore,
Leaking their contents
All over the floor,
The doctors were nodding
While still on their feet,
Dreaming of nurses
Who might be in heat,
When all of a sudden
There arose such a clatter,
As seventeen nurses
Awakened to chatter,
About marriage and dating
And clothing and pets,
Their favorite jewelry
And credit card debts,
When their chatter abated
One could feel the blue mood,
Until somebody round up
Some old Christmas food,
The left over crusts
Of the half eaten pies,
The souring eggnog
Complete with some flies.

In the course of the feast
And their unified chew,
They were rudely annoyed
By the call of Code Blue,
Come the doctors and nurses
The pharmacy and the like,
Each wanting a chance
To drive in their spike,
Acute pandemonium
Reigned on the scene,
As those nurses all rushed
To lick their plates clean,
But alas and alack
When the dust finally cleared,
They were shocked to behold
What all of them feared,
The dead had arisen
And found their call-lights,
The magic was gone
'Twas just one of those nights.

Fibril_late; 12/92