�Twas the night before Christmas,
and through all the cell house,
not a creature was stirring but escapers and a mouse.
The prisoners were tucked all snug in their beds,
And visions of cocaine danced in their heads,
The jail birds hung from the window with care.
In dread that the warden soon would be there.
The uniformed guard with his baseball cap,
Had just settled down for a midnight cat-nap
And what to the escapers eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.
Old St. Nick, the jolly old lot,
Was so angry his face was a red-spot.
�Get into your rooms and go back to bed,
you could break your neck or your head!�
On Christmas morning, when they discovered their socks
they found the bottoms were lined with hard rocks.
There is a point to this goofy poem,
If you live in a prison, Christmas night, stay at home.�