Sim Night Before Christmas By: Dr. Dipper Dip

Ed. Note: First published in 1999, it just wouldn’t be Christmas without this classic simulated tale delighting new players and old alike. We want to recognize the good Dr. Dipper Lip for this 15th anniversary of the Sim Night Before Christmas. 

By- Doctor Dipper Lip 

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the barns
Not a horseman was stirring, not even JEFF telling yarns;
The feedbags were hung by the stall doors with care;
In hopes that ST BILLGULCH soon would be there;

The grooms and RR were all nestled snug in their beds,
While visions of sim cash danced in their heads;
And CATCHER in her kerchief and ROCK in his cap,
Had just settled down for a wee backstretch nap.

When out on the turf arose such a clatter,
That even SAL woke to see what was the matter.
Away to the window SAL flew like a flash
Dropping the pizza and spilling the hash.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow
Gave the luster of winning mutual tickets to objects below.
When, what to ROYS’ bloodshot eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleight stocked full of coors beer.

With a rock’in young driver, splattered with mulch
We knew one and all that it must be ST BILLGULCH.
Like an Ongoing Tune his horses they came,
And he whistled, and shouted and called them by name

Now, CRICKER ! now, CODA ! hey CADET and FL!
On, ZGREAT! now ACE hey SNOWCHIEF and RL!
To the top of the clubhouse! He’s having a ball
Now sprint away, sprint away, sprint away all.

Pulling hard to the left, ST BILLGULCH gave a sigh
As DAVARTO and EMIT off stride careened by
So up on the roof top the horses they flew
With the sleigh full of tickets and ST BILLGULCH too.

And then as a clanking was heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I looked at the scratch sheet and was turning around,
Down from the Stewards room ST. BILLGULCH came with a bound.

He was dressed all in old forms from his head to his hat,
And unanswered e-mails stuffed in his sack.
A bundle of programs he had flung on his back,
And he looked like the paperboy with betting slips in his pack.

His eyes how they twinkled with visions to come
Of trifectas and numbers and drinking some rum.
His wake was crowded with touts in the know
With LEBRECHE and TINA and even TANICO.

The stump of a pencil he held tight in his lips,
With UNBRIDLED and SOCAL giving him tips.
He sat at the table and pondered the chase,
In hopes that his horse would at least finish the race.

He was chubby and plump, like a retired old jock
And resembled a pauper who was just out of hock.
With a wink of his eye and a slap of his knee
He added, subtracted and cackled with glee.

He spoke not a word but kept straight at his work,
Erasing and writing he then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
Went straight to the teller before he could close.

Then back to the rooftop, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all galloped fast as a missile.
I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
Bigger Bets, Better Mutuals and TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.