TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
THE CRYPTSY RENDITION
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even BV's spouse.
The stockings were hung by JShockney with care,
In hopes that St BitJohn soon would be there.
The traders were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of profit-plums danced in their heads.
And nwfella in his kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains from a long winters crap.
When out on the trollbox there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the chat window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the DOGE trades and threw up my stash.
The moon on the breast of the new-risen price
Gave the lustre of mid-day to trading altcoins, so nice.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature withdrawal, only eight tiny DASHdeer.
With a little old email, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be in transit.
More rapid than CrypsyBanHammer his coursers they came,
And trolls whistled, and shouted, and called me to blame!
"Now JShock! now, Horus! now, Mullick, and Terrick!
On, PolkaDot! On Lucifer! on Satan, and Disparage!
To the top of the traders! to the top of them all!
Now dash away! Dash away! DASH away with it all!"
As the scams like before the wild hurricanes fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the tip-top of withdrawals they flew,
With the sleigh full of Drugs, Weapons, and Stolen Credit Cards; of course St BigVern too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the blockchain
The prancing and pawing of each little Bitcoin.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Marshall Long came with a bound.
He was dressed all in dildos, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Bitcoins he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a brown cherry!
His droll little mouth was slack from the man-hoes,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the blow.
The stump of a cock he held tight in his teeth,
And the meth smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and an enormous round belly,
That shook when he shat, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a right foul smelling troll,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of the dole!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had everything to dread.
He spoke narcissistic words, then went straight to his work,
And stole all the stockings, while preforming a circle jerk.
And laying his finger inside of his hoes,
And giving a nod, up his arsehole theirs' rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, then his arse gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like customers' Bitcoin dismissals.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"BigVern has fled to China, so no withdrawals, period; Not even tonight!"
