T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the manse Not a treasure unguarded, nor left up to chance The stockings were hung in the library with care In hopes that the Dark Lord soon would be there
The Keepers were nestled all snug in their beds While titles of Appendix N danced in their heads Brinkmans in their covers, Baity in his cap Had just settled their brains for a quick ‘tween... [click here for more]
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