Pour yourthelf thum thnappth, thnuggle up to the hearth in your thartreuthe theerthucker drething gown, and warm yourthelf with thith little bon mot --
IS GIVEN A
ERNIE "PERCY LLEWELYN DOVETONSILS" KOVACS
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the duplex
Just a valet was pressing (a glen plaid with blue checks).
The nylons were hung by the chimney with care
C.O.D. from I. Magnin's (the bill was still there).
The boys home from prep school all snug in their beds,
While visions of Marilyn danced in their heads.
And Mumms in her Bergdorf and I in my Saks
Lay in Louis XIV (whose first name was Max).
When up in the penthouse there arose such a clatter
I summoned the butler, asked, "What was the matter?"
I ran through the room in a 40 yard sprint,
Pulled up the venetians and leaned out to squint.
The moon on the sidewalks of chic Sutton Place
Gave the color of liver to the old doorman's face.
When what to my wond'ring eyes did appear
But a Mercedes-Benz pulling up in high gear!
With a cute little driver so lively and quick
I knew 'twas the chauffeur of Jolly Saint Nick!
More rapid than Jags, his convertible came
And he whistled and shouted and called it by name.
"Now Stupid! Now Junk-heap! Now Bucket of Bolts!
Look out for those taxis! (Those drivers are dolts!)
Look out for the porch! Look out for the wall!
Whatever you do, Mercedes don't stall!"
As strollers 'fore taxis and buses do fly,
He hit a poor cop and knocked him sky high.
Then up to the duplex the convertible flew,
With a trunk full of toys and St. Nicholas, too.
And then in a twinkling like a fast-driving heiress,
He slammed on the brakes and parked on the terrace!
As I drew on my Homburg and was turning around
Down the stone fireplace Santa came with a bound!
He was dressed all in cashmere from his head to his foot.
Abercrombie & Fitch was stamped on each boot.
He had a Hathaway shirt -- and was looking quite dudie
As he took genteel puffs on a meerschaum Kaywoodie.
His Cavanaugh hat and bright Argyle socks
Matched the fur on his suit which was ermine, not fox.
His beard was white mink -- a right jolly old elf
And I laughed at his spats, in spite of myself.
But a look at his tie (shantung and in red!)
And I wished that I'd stood all snug in my bed.
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work
And drove Sardi's caterer fairly berserk.
He ate like a demon as he trimmed up the tree--
Pheasant, hors d'ouevres and lobster gelée.
In a fine linen hankie he blew on his nose,
Sucked in his tummy -- up the chimney he rose.
His driver was snoozing, a lovely young dame.
She woke with a smile when he called her by name.
Come Gina, Bambina, it's time for linguini --
But first to the Stork Club, a real dry martini.
He saw me and hollered ere he whizzed out of sight --
"I'll bill you next month for my labors tonight!"
OUR OWN BEN MODEL GIVES US HIS INTERPRETATION OF THE POEM "A LA DOVETONSILS".
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