‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the servers,
Not a glitch was stirring, nor cyber attackers.
The firewalls were hung by the data centre with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The IT team nestled all snug in their chairs,
While visions of bug fixes danced in the air.
And I in my hoodie, with a keyboard in hand,
Had just settled in for a long coding stand.

When out on the network there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the router, I flew like a flash,
Tore open the firewall and threw up the cache.

The moon on the routers of the new-fallen snow
Gave a lustre of midday to the systems below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

With a savvy old driver, so tech-savvy and slick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than fibre, his courses they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the server! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”

As dry code before the wild syntax highlight,
When they meet with an error, mount to the cloud and take flight,
So up to the data centre the reindeer they flew,
With the sleigh full of updates, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the fibre-optic St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in code, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of cables he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

The stump of a mouse he held tight in his teeth,
And the code, it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And fixed all the servers; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the data centre he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”