Twas the night before Cardmas, when all through the house
Not a cllector was stirring, not even Chris Olds.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that a big hit soon would be there.
The collectors were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of mojo hits danced in their heads.
And 20youk in his Red Sox jersey, and I in my Red Sox cap,
Had just prepared ourselves for a big box break.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like Carl Crawford,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the front of my new chrome cards
Gave the lustre of a rainbow to the cards below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a 1/1 Press plate, and eight relics and autos here.
With an awesome big pull, so pricy and slick,
I knew in a moment it must be the mojo.
More sick than a patch card, the hits they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Mojo! now, Big Pull! now, auto and patch!
On, refractor! On, relic! on, on press and high end hit!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now rip away! rip away! rip away all!"
As hands that before the wild hurricane fly in celebration in the air,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of card, and of course mojo too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The sound of the mojo and all of the hits.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney the mojo came with a bound.
It was slick and sweet from its head to its foot,
And its cards were all pristine without with ashes and soot.
A bundle of cards he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a collector, just opening his pack.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to its work,
And filled all the boxes with mojo, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of its packs,
And giving a nod, up the chimney it rose!
It sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard it exclaim, ‘ere it drove out of sight,
"Happy Cardmas to all, and to all a good-night!