A Noel Poem   Or, to be precise…  A “No-L” Poem ------------------------------------------------------------------ ‘Twas the fortnight before Christmas; Santa went to make his dry run. Searched for his keys and did not find even one. The keys he remembered had hung on a hook, Right next to the Naughty / Nice Ratio Book. He remembered where he’d put ‘em when he went on vacation, They’re in the safe, but what’s the combination? He hung his head as if searching the ground, Shut his eyes to see numbers spinning around. He has to crack open the safe as soon as he can, What Santa needs now is a good Yegg Man. Now Yeggs don’t have web sites, they’re not in the phone pages, They work in the shadows and have done so for ages. By definition they are more naughty than nice, So, the “naughty” red book gave Santa advice. Up from the pages jumped one pair’s name, Boris and Natasha; masters of the Yegg game. It was easy for Santa to know what to do next, He sent ‘em an emergency SOS text. Boris and Natasha didn’t come in using the door,        They just broke a window with a two by four. They’d rather break the window and sashay on through, (I suppose it’s ‘cause that’s what Yeggs oft times do.) They didn’t say a word but put an ear to the safe door, In a minute they had it; seven, zero, eight four. Inside were the keys and for your information There was a green tag that had the written combination. And moving as fast as the eye can see They jumped out the window to their ATV. Santa heard them say as they rode into the night. “You owe us one Santa, so…  Christmas Eve treat us right!