Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the airport
Not a flyer was stirring, not even a rat around D36.
The airplanes were parked by the jetbridge with care,
In hopes that the economy rebound would soon be there.

The Captain and FO were nestled in the cockpit,
While visions of pay cuts and long hours gave them a fit.
And the Gate Lice in his wrinkled suit, and I in my "Glenn's Gotta Go" cap,
Had just settled into ...