photo ©I.K.Hadinger

Once again, I post this fun Spanglish Christmas poem that’s been floating around for years. The author remains a mystery.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the casa
Not a creature was stirring.  Caramba!  Que pasa?
Los niños were all tucked away in their camas,
Some in long calzones, some in pajamas.

While Mama worked late in her little cocina,
El viejo was down at the corner cantina
Living it up with amigos.  Carracho!
Muy contento and poco borracho!

While hanging the stockings with mucho cuidado
In hopes that old Santa would feel obligado
To bring all the niños, both buenos and malos,
A nice bunch of dulces and other regalos,

Outside in the yard there arose such a grito
That I jumped to my feet like a frightened cabrito.
I ran to the window and looked out afuera,
And who in the world do you think that it era?

Saint Nick on a sleigh and a big red sombrero
Came dashing along like a crazy bombero.
And pulling his sleigh, instead of venados,
Were eight little burros, approaching volados.

I watched as they came, and this quaint little hombre
Was shouting and whistling and calling by nombre:
“Ay, Pancho!  Ay, Pepe!  Ay, Cuca!  Ay, Beto!
Ay, Chato!  Ay, Chopo!  Maruca y Nieto!”

Then, standing erect with his hand on his pecho,
He flew to the top of our very own techo.
With his round little belly like a bowl of jalea
He struggled to squeeze down our old chimenea.

Then, huffing and puffing, at last to our sala,
With soot smeared all over his red suit de gala,
He filled all the stockings with lovely regalos,
For none of los niños had been very malos.

Then chuckling along, seeming mucho contento,
He turned like a flash and was gone like the viento.
And I heard him exclaim — and this is verdad —
“Merry Christmas to all! y Feliz Navidad!”


  1. Twas the night before Christmas, when on the comales
    Not a pot was boiling, except for tamales.
    The pork bien picada, the masa elada,
    All in ready for the day`s Tamalada.

    The pots were washed, all shiny and shimmering,
    Las ojas were soaking, waiting for simmering.
    Abuelo on the sofa, the TV screaming,
    Abuelita on the bed, of lotto dreaming.

    When out in the street, pitos were honking,
    Abuelo yelled, “Wake up, Neitos coming”.
    The family arrived, dressed in delantales,
    Breanna in her wool, Xmas guantes.

    Andele Estella, Eva, mas pronto Juan!
    Muevele Christina, Miguel Y no tardes Don.
    All present here, at Inez`s kitchen table,
    Except for Cesar, lacking jumper cables.

    No frijoles or queso, for filling instead,
    Only the best, of the cerdo`s head.
    No time to tear, a strip for a belt,
    The fold will hold itself or be dealt.

    With palita we spread, the masa so thin,
    Thick as a log, is a mortal sin.
    To the elbows in masa, nails stained with red chili.
    Hands sticky with mole, we near dozen fifty.

    Despus La Posada, Tamales we enjoy,
    Makes it worth, the trabajo hoy.
    All eaten before the Candelaria,
    None left, in the olla Tamalera.

    The dozens divided, carried by armload,
    The finished relief, made all smiles glow.
    Exhausted craving, for menudo or frajita,
    We left Abuelita , with an icy margarita.

    Hurry home not to miss, La Misa de Gallo,
    As we try to keep tomorrow`s day hallow.
    A final shout, saludos finales,
    Feliz Navida , y Viva tamales !

  2. Merry Christmas to you and your family, Ilona. This brings a smile to my face since I’m from Texas! El Paso, grew up 10 minutes from la frontera! 🙂


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