‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
Only tourists were stirring - backpackers from Laos.
Originally from Europe, adventure seekers, no fear,
Taking pictures all over, for social posts they could share.
They eventually stopped partying and went to their beds,
While visions of beaches and sun filled their heads.
Their guide had been waiting and taken a nap,
While they sussed out tomorrow, using the CamperMate app.
Outside the house, there rose a great clatter,
Just the coach motor groaning; it didn’t really matter.
The party was over, it seemed, in a flash,
The last drink at 4am - it really was quite the bash.
Christmas was coming, yet they seemed somewhat low,
There was something just missing - oh yes, it was snow!
They knew that Santa would not just appear,
And the coach with red lights was their only reindeer.
The guide was a driver, so lively and quick,
He knew he would dress up just like St Nick.
He had gotten quite close, knew them all by nickname,
Eight really bold fun ones, they were all to blame.
Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen!
On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen,
To sleep you must go or you will hit the wall,
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all.
They needed some sleep, for tomorrow they’d fly,
With parachutes; jumping from way up in the sky.
Lots of adventure things; most of them new,
Once one of them did it, the others would too.
The guide was quite funny, so good at his work,
They all really loved him; he wasn’t a jerk.
He left jandals for all, they could show all their toes,
By the smell of the feet, one might need a new nose.
They were so deep asleep, tomorrow would need a whistle.
For their livers’ sake, he hoped they drank some milk thistle.
One last check on them all; his own bed in sight,
Happy Christmas to all - and to all a goodnight.