‘Twas the Saturday before Christmas, when out in Mad Co
the hares were stirring, setting the 2nd Mad Ho.
The chalk was tinted red and sprinkled with care,
in hopes that the hashers soon would be there.
The hashers arrived, dragged from their beds,
while visions of shitty hash beer danced in their heads.
And Fakey in her elf suit, and Deflower in a Mickey cap,
had just set a trail they hoped would surprise and trap!
Out on the road there was such a commotion!
Hashers sprang from cars in search of hash potion.
Away to the pre-lube cooler they did dash,
tore open the lid, and got ready to hash.
And as the pre-lube beers did flow,
hashers and dogs played in the road.
When, what to the hash’s wondering eyes should be seen,
but a beat up old car that was not very clean..
With a little old driver, neon coat shining through,
We knew in a moment that it must be TOFU.
Then less rapid than turtles, a circle was made,
Chalk talk to introduce the marks that were laid:
“Beer Near! Shot Check!
Now, something new!
BSN: a Beer Shot Check!
Plus Picture and Song Checks for you!
Now checking from here!
Yes, all arrows are true!
Now dash away! Dash away!
It’s your own fucking fault too!”
As snow crunched under their feet, asking themselves “why?”,
under the cloudy gray Mad Co sky,
searching for true trail they flew,
dressed like hoes, elves, reindeer, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling they found an X on the trail,
checking from here, and a Big F for Fail.
False trails and reverses had them turning around,
But soon enough the Shot Check was found.
A thermos of booze laced cocoa to their lips was put,
And then the on-out again dashing on foot.
Through the snowy woods they did trek
to find a shelter of sticks for a Picture Check,
The snow–how it twinkled! White, light, and airy!
The BS Check was found; it made the kennel so merry!
Eggnog liquor and holiday beer made them glow,
And then they were off running through the snow.
The branches of trees got in their way,
And then there was the checking of J.
But they were soon on a trail that was more mellow,
and by Bridges of Mad Co they found shots of Jell-o.
Red and white gel in a clump, a right disgusting mess,
and they gagged when they ate them, these shots did not impress.
But a bit more trail, and a last Beer Near ahead
let the hash know they had nothing to dread.
Quick work to the BN, skipping the last J check,
and soon filled their vessels, with circle on deck.
Down-downs were given, and a visit by a local guy:
He was properly welcomed and then he said goodbye.
To the Blue Canoe, to wet their whistles,
No blizzard this year, they all flew like missiles.
But they were heard exclaiming, before they drove out of sight,
“May the hash go in peace, may the hash get a piece tonight!”
Respectfully submitted,
Came with a Fake Name
