'Twas the week before Christmas, and across from the Y,
The Bangers were gathered—some humans, plus Sky.
They all counted down, then they took to their feet,
To piss off the people on Washington Street.
The runners, they sprinted like inmates on furlough,
In the neon-green shirts that they’d ordered from Zurlo.
They had only nine months to prepare for the day,
When the Bangers would host the World’s Greatest 5K.
Then down in Oak Square there arose such a clatter,
It was nearly enough to stop Jamison’s chatter.
The noise was so great that they almost fell over,
What they thought was an elf? It was only Em Grover.
The events of that night took away all their breath,
“It was awesome! So bangin’!” exclaimed Captain Seth.
And what to their wandering eyes had appeared,
But gift cards from Wegmans, and a ton of free beer.
From a little old driver, so lively and quick,
We knew in a moment—he could dance just like Nick.
Though more rapid than eagles, he pulled to a stop.
And we finally saw: It was Mike from the Drop!
The night was so joyous, they all were in thrall,
It was just like that bash in the garage at the mall.
And visions they dreamed, as the happiness raged,
Of even more Bangers becoming engaged.
There’d been parties galore, and music to stomp to,
And occasional bar nights (but those were impromptu).
It had been a great year, they’d all had lots of laughs,
Running dozens of marathons, and hundreds of halfs.
So they sprang from the square, feeling newly alive,
And each one, when they finished, got a high five.
Then they came back inside, on this evening so bright,
Merry Christmas to the Bangers, and to all a fast night!