T'was the Night Before Christmas

WoodenJefferson · December 24, 2010 10:09AM

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the bourse

Not a dealer was stirring, not even a mouse;

The raw coins were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that David Hall soon would be there;

The collectors were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of MS-70’s danced in their heads;

And Don Willis in 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the bourse 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,

Coin doctors were working for some quick Christmas cash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the luster of mid-day to the Morgan’s below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight Forumites so dear,

With a little old grader, so lively and small,

I knew in a moment it must be HomeRunHall.

More rapid than FEC his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Mad Marty! now, Saint Guru! now, Longacre and RYK!

On, CaptHenway! on Coinguy1! on, Tradedollarnut and RWB!

To the top of the thread! to the top of the post!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away to our host!"

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 HomeRunHall 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 David Hall came with a bound.

He was dressed all in Hawaiian, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with PVC and soot;

A bundle of coins 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 chain cent 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 graded the raw coins; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, a PR-70 DCAM he chose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his Forumites 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 PCGS is alright."