Twas the night before Christmas MOA

Twas the night before Christmas
When all through the museum
Not a creature was stirring, it was an artifact mausoleum
Moccasins were arranged in the Gift Shop with care,
In hopes that last minute shoppers soon would be there.

The staff were all nestled cozy warm in their office
After eating too much chocolate, they were feeling quite nauseous.
With the lights out in the gallery
And doors locking at four thirty
Jen was madly typing on Twitter’s messaging birdie.

When out in the Village there arose such a clatter
Joan sprang from her desk to see what was the matter.
Out to the site we all flew like The Flash,
Opened the Palisade gate to discover the crash…

The moon shone down on the new-fallen snow
Giving the longhouse a magical glow
When, what to our wondering eyes did appear
But a miniature sleigh, filled with archaeology gear!

The driver, Dr. Ferris, so lively and quick
We knew in a moment this wasn’t a trick.
He delivered some sieves, trowels and drawing frames
And projectile points, even called them by name:

“Here’s Hi-lo! Now Snyders!
Now Satchell and Brewerton!
I have Crowfield ! And, Glen Meyer!
And Saugeen and Hamilton!
To Sustainable Archaeology!
To the permanent collection!
Now catalogue, catalogue,
Catalogue these with perfection!”

Patrice excited by all these new donations
Started working immediately on new grant applications.
So back to the Museum we all flew, light and quick
arms full of supplies, just like Saint Nick.

And then, hours later, Cindy heard a rap at her door
An onslaught of students wanting to work on more.
Katie peered around the corner excited for their help
Four birthdays were booked for next weekend – “Yelp!”

To the classroom and theatre the whole group ran
Stringing decorations and adhering to Katie’s game plan
Her new little elves were working so hard
Katie gave them all A’s on their report cards.

Soon all the work at the museum was finished
We were all very tired but our enthusiasm undiminished.
We packed our bags, and bundled up for the cold,
Snow falling around us and stars glittering like gold

We sprang to our sleds, gave Timmins Martelle a whistle.
And away we all flew down Attawandaron hill like a missile.
But I heard one exclaim, as snow blinded our sight,

“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

— Adapted from Clement Clarke Moore’s “Twas the Night Before Christmas Poem” (1822).