'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the sanctuary,
not a monkey was stirring, not even Scar and Larry.
The blankets were hung on the clothesline with care,
In hopes that the care staff would find them dry there.
The monkeys were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of cashews danced in their heads.
With the dogs all around, me in my flannels and cap,
We had just settled in for a quick little nap.
When out in the monkey yard there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
I flung open the door, and I began to ask...
"What's wrong with you monkeys? Settle down, go to sleep.
All is quite well, there is no need to weep."
It was White-Faced Land raising a fuss,
So I called them by name and I asked them to hush.
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