Faint gibbering heard from somewhere near the restricted stacks
Tag Archives: whiskey
The smell pierced her. It coiled and drifted and wove through her, conjuring the last drip of whiskey in her father’s crystal decanter, the first strawberries of summer, the last scrap of Christmas pudding smeared over gold-chased bone china and licked off with lazy tongue swipes. It smelled like a sticky wetness on her fingers, coaxed out of a pretty girl in the cloak room at a Mayfair ball, slipped into a pair of silk gloves and placed on a young colonel’s scarlet shoulder during the waltz.
“An open letter to Saint Nicholas…
Whiskey and cookies on the mantle
The children asleep wait for St. Nick
While they sleep we can drink
The tree is hung – tribute to you
And three hundred and sixty for days til I see you again
And a thousand more tears
And a thousand more tears
St. Nicholas, St. Nicholas, at the North Pole
364 days spent all alone
Take off your boots, pour a drink
Try not to cry, try not to think
St. Nicholas, St. Nicholas, at the North Pole
364 days spent all alone
Take off your boots, pour a drink
Try not to cry, try not to think
Try not to think…
And you drink your eggnog and I’ll drink my wine
Toast the season, but just one more time
The morning is coming, the whiskey is empty
The gifts have arrived, St. Nick has come and gone
St. Nicholas, St. Nicholas, at the North Pole
364 days spent all alone
Take off your boots, pour a drink
Try not to cry, try not to think
St. Nicholas, St. Nicholas, at the North Pole
364 days spent all alone
Take off your boots, pour a drink
Try not to cry…
And it ends like it started, the hugs and the kisses
The bullshit flows, the bullshit flows
You raise your bottle, and I’ll raise my flask
Toast Christmas future, and toast Christmas past
And when they’re all gone, sit down in peace
Wait one more year
And pour just one more drink
St. Nicholas, St. Nicholas, at the North Pole
364 days spent all alone
Take off your boots, pour a drink
Try not to cry, try not to think
St. Nicholas, St. Nicholas, at the North Pole
364 days spent all alone
Take off your boots, pour a drink
Try not to cry, try not to think
Try not to think…
St. Nicholas… All alone…”
” by 
from 