Bluegrassrivals

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even CT;
The basketball stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Magnum soon would be there;
The entourage were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-taters danced in their heads;
And Granny Bear in her 'kerchief, and I in my Patriot cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn the roofy snapped like a Chesters chicken leg and gave a shatter,
Ole Fatpat rose up like a mutha from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flashy,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sashy.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of Game day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering Patriot eyes should appear,
But a Yoders sleigh, and eight BGR bruthas in the sleigh rear,
With a little ole driver, quick as Honeycutta with a pack of gum,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Magnum.
More rapid than the Patriot train his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted it's Time to Rise, and called them by name;
"Now, BoPo! Now, Biz Bizness! now, LT! Now Huckleberry and Honeycutta!
On, Hightide! on TMac! on, Italian Stallion and Playboy!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Fo' Shizzle ma Nizzle and now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As banners in the complex wave and bend from the Big A$$ fans fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the top of Mortys the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Magnum too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each lil hoof.
As I held a mug in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the freaking chimney St. Magnum came wide open with a bound.
Triple Wowza! Magz 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 Fatpat on a road trip just opening his fatpack.
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 bowy,
And the beard of Magz chin was as white as the snowy;
The stump of a cigar he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a lil 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, cuz he reminded me of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He said wassup big guy, the party dont start til I walk in, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a shaba jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a head nod like CT after a win, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh like ole Obammy in GTW, to his team gave a whistle,
And away like a boss they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of freaking sight,
MORE MASH TATERS PLEASE AND HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!
Bolz going to be a wild Christmas but to all my BGR bruthas. modataters,and da gang Merry Christmas from Fatpat and Pat Nation baby! More mash taters please!!!

fatpatfan Wrote:
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even CT;
The basketball stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Magnum soon would be there;
The entourage were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-taters danced in their heads;
And Granny Bear in her 'kerchief, and I in my Patriot cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn the roofy snapped like a Chesters chicken leg and gave a shatter,
Ole Fatpat rose up like a mutha from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flashy,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sashy.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of Game day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering Patriot eyes should appear,
But a Yoders sleigh, and eight BGR bruthas in the sleigh rear,
With a little ole driver, quick as Honeycutta with a pack of gum,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Magnum.
More rapid than the Patriot train his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted it's Time to Rise, and called them by name;
"Now, BoPo! Now, Biz Bizness! now, LT! Now Huckleberry and Honeycutta!
On, Hightide! on TMac! on, Italian Stallion and Playboy!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Fo' Shizzle ma Nizzle and now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As banners in the complex wave and bend from the Big A$$ fans fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the top of Mortys the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Magnum too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each lil hoof.
As I held a mug in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the freaking chimney St. Magnum came wide open with a bound.
Triple Wowza! Magz 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 Fatpat on a road trip just opening his fatpack.
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 bowy,
And the beard of Magz chin was as white as the snowy;
The stump of a cigar he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a lil 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, cuz he reminded me of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He said wassup big guy, the party dont start til I walk in, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a shaba jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a head nod like CT after a win, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh like ole Obammy in GTW, to his team gave a whistle,
And away like a boss they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of freaking sight,
MORE MASH TATERS PLEASE AND HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!
Bolz going to be a wild Christmas but to all my BGR bruthas. modataters,and da gang Merry Christmas from Fatpat and Pat Nation baby! More mash taters please!!!

nicker: Is there a place in Knott County that sells Chester Fried Chicken? I'd like to visit if there is since I can't find it around here anymore. I wish you a Merry Christmas and hope you get all the mashed taters and tater wedges that you can eat.