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‘Twas the night before Christmas

     and all through the county

Developers were counting,

     their boomtown bounty.

The rezonings were hung,

     in the county building with care

In the hopes that prosperity soon would be there

The people were nestled all snug in their beds

While visions of country scenes

     filled their heads.

Commissioners in their kerchiefs

     and board members in their caps

Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the street there arose such a clatter

They sprang from their beds

     to see what’s the matter.

Away to the windows they flew with a flash

Developers were filling their pockets with cash.

The moon on the breast of the now fallow land

Gave a luster of mid-day on bulldozers so grand.

Then what to their wondering eyes should appear

But groups of residents, so lively, so clear.

Well, they knew in a moment,

     they were in for some lip

These residents they came, heartfelt and hip.

More rapid than eagles, they told them no more

We’ve got industry aplenty, and apartments, too

Who’s making all this money, could it be you?

Then they started calling out, all of their names

Trying to bring, some rezoning shame.

Oh! Renegar, Oh! Poindexter and Blakley too

Can’t you all see what they’re trying to do.

We’re not Clemmons, nor Winston

     nor Atlanta, GA

We’re just little ole’ Davie,

     staying country, we pray

But no! Growth is good, more jobs and tax

Less strain on your pocketbooks,

     so you can finally relax.

And then, they all looked upward,

     commissioners and their foes

And saw the fat man, that goes Ho! Ho! Ho!

In his big sleigh, with eight reindeer so quick

They knew in a minute, it must be St. Nick

We’re all in this together, so why do we fight

Especially today, on this special night

So, get it together, you all want the same thing

Better lives for your families, it has a great ring.

I’ll fill all your stockings, he said with a wink

Then headed back up the chimney

     in a quick little blink

He sprang to his sleigh,

     to his team gave a whistle

And away they all flew

     like the down of a whistle

But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight

Merry Christmas to all and to all … goodnight.

My apologies to Clement Clarke Moore,

the original author of

“Twas the Night Before Christmas.”

– Mike Barnhardt