‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the warehouse
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung in our lobby with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The linemen were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of a good night’s sleep danced in their heads.
All the employees and the CEO in his cap
Had all settled down for long winter’s naps
When out at a transformer there arose such a clatter.
We all sprang from our beds to see what was the matter.
Away to the window we flew like a flash
Just in time to hear a pole crack followed by a crash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of broken power lines on the ground below
When what to my wondering eyes should I peep
But a yellow bucket truck with eight linemen half asleep.
With a little old driver, so lively and neat,
I knew in a moment it must be our operations manager, Pete.
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Ricky! Now, Ronald! Now, David and Mason!
On, Duane! On, Daniel! On, Mason and Nathan!
To the top of the bucket, to the top of the pole,
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
They were all dressed in protective equipment, from their heads to their toes,
For their safety is paramount, everyone knows.
They spoke not a word, but went straight to their work
And though they were tired, they didn’t act like a jerk.
The story is longer, lasting well into the night
But the ending is happy, with the restoration of light.
We heard the linemen yell as they drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all members, goodnight!”