'Twas the nightmare before Hashmas, at the Boston Hash House
The pack was all slurring, the wankers were soused;
The sweatsocks were hung in the Muddy with care,
In hopes that our NamblaClaus soon would be there;
The harriers were ready to hop into bed,
With visions of harriettes giving them cranium;
But since nothing arose from a drunk harrier's lap,
The hashers laid down for a long winter's nap
When out in the shiggy there arose such a clatter,
Buoys sprang from his barstool to see what was the matter;
Away from the Po Po he flew like a flash,
Suggesting that STD bury his stash.
Evading the police by running like heck
He luckily stumbled upon a tit check;
When, what to his wondering eyes should appear,
But a magical bag car, stocked full of beer,
BBB solved the boob check with nary a pause,
And out of the shiggy appear'd NamblaClaus;
More rapid than GAP, the hashers they came,
As he shouted "On-on!", and he called them by name;
"Now, JMo! now, Wang! now, Fisty and Menopause is Awesome!
On, Hare Club! on Krusty! on, GString and Save A Tree Ride a Cowboy!"
"To the Window! To the Wall! To the sweat drip down my balls! To all
these bitches crawl!
Now hash away, hash away, hash away all!"
He was dressed in a Speedo to attract little boys,
But his sack held two marbles instead of fun toys;
With no gifts for nice hashers, because they were few,
NamblaClaus gave us our naughty review:
"You recruited a virgin, professionally-dressed,
He brought one-night-stands to the hash, as his guest!
But while you wankers beer-checked alongside the hare,
He foamed from the mouth outside Kendall Square."
"You pissed off the good folks at ol' Newtowne Grill
Stiffed the Hong Kong, walking out on your bill
With Razzy's an on-in you can no longer use
The only place left to drink will be from your shoes"
"JMo and Stinky—how the mighty, they fall!
And Fire (that Liar!) made fools of you all!
Monthly Cycle and Cuffy both fled from this place
And Deep Black Hole launched herself into space"
He chastised the pack till his face was all red
He jumped in the bag car, then turned back and said:
"No presents for hashers, but one lesson to keep:
The bathroom at Crossroads is no place to sleep."
He knows that the pack will be naughty next year
Assembling at any pronouncement of beer;
Still I heard him exclaim, as he drove through the streets:
"Merry Hashmas to all, and may the hash get a piece!"
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