‘Twas the night before Christmas,
when all through the house,
Not a beer to be found,
my thirst needing to be doused.
My stocking was hung on a rusty old nail,
In hopes St. Nicholas would bring me Pale Ale.
The grandchildren were all home,
nestled in bed,
While visions of Lone Stars danced in my head.
With me in my ‘kerchief, coverin’
my mouth and nose
I drove to Stripes as fast as my old truck goes.
When I pulled up to store,
there arose such a clatter,
I jumped out of my truck
to see what w...