The Night Before Christmas in the Chordie Universe

The NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS in the CHORDIE UNIVERSE

'Twas the night before Christmas, in the Chordie universe,
And the guitarists were dreaming, but none for the worse;
Of hints and whispers for new toys with strings,
'Cause these are the best of our favourite things.

And Santa had checked those naughty & nice,
Those good as can be, or drowning in vice,
To see what guitar would suit each of them best,
With so many choices stretched east and west.

When out on the web there arose a great chatter,
Of opinions and preferences in all of these matters.
One said "Humbucker!", another "Single Coil",
And a few more said "Splittable!", the tempers they boiled.

When Santa stepped in and said, "Stop the noise!
There's lots for all of the grown girls and boys;
Who bring a bit of childhood to grown-up life,
To help them cope with the stress and the strife."

So he spoke to each one of them, even called them by name,
As he divvied up treasures, no two quite the same;
According to everyone's unique music taste,
So that all would be happy, with nothing to waste.

On BadEye, on Russell, on Phill, Zurf and Beamer,
On Roger, on BlueJeep, and the Benson named Peter,
Instruments most glorious and effects most notorious,
And by the way "Thanks!" for the cold milk and Oreos.

We strummed them with joy, and plucked them with mirth,
There's no greater sound around all the whole earth,
Than a guitar played with passion, and some margin of skill,
It's our one thing held in common, and so it always will.

With no way to end this wee portion of prose,
Which is just plain nonsense, one would have to suppose,
I'll simply say to you good friends I've never met,
Merry Christmas to all of you … have the best one yet!

NOTE: No eggnog was consumed in the composition of of this poem ... honest!