Margarita Night
'Twas the night before Margarita Night, in the office so neat,
Not a keyboard was clicking, all tasks on pause, a rare feat.
The desks were all empty, the silence so deep,
In anticipation of margaritas, we'd soon be in deep.
The colleagues were dreaming of lime and of salt,
While visions of tequila danced without fault.
And I in my workspace, with visions so bright,
Prepared for the fiesta, a Margarita Night.
When from the break room there arose such a cheer,
I dashed from my desk, the source to be near.
To the doorway I hurried, and what did appear?
A makeshift cantina, spreading holiday cheer!
A lively bartender, with spirit so quick,
I knew in a moment, it must be Saint Nick.
With limes on his back, and salt stains so merry,
He shook up the margaritas, a party to bury.
His eyes how they twinkled, his dimples so merry,
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry.
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,
"Happy Margarita Night to all, and to all a good night!"
