Twas the night before Christmas and all through the clubhouse,
Not a player was in sight, not even a spouse.
The jerseys were all hung in the lockers with care,
With hopes that a new free agent pitcher soon would be there.
The Blue Jays were nestled all snug in their beds,
As visions of 3rd place or better danced in their heads.
There was Beeston without socks, and J.P. in his lap,
And they had both settled in for an off season nap.
When all of a sudden there arose such a noise,
It had to be St. Nick with a new bag of toys.
With a quiet demeanor and a face like a rock,
I knew in a moment that it must be The Doc.
He did not waste time, nor did he play games,
Methodically in order he called out their names:
"Now Overbay, now Hill, now Rolen, and Scoots,
On Barajas, on Rios, and Wells to boot!"
They hadn't yet chosen a designated hitter,
As hopes of signing Manny had gone down the shitter.
The rotation was in shambles, but not to fret,
J.P. would do something, just not ... yet.
He looked to The Doc to keep the Jays in the race,
As Roy was the leader, and the reliable ace.
Doc spoke not a word and went right to work,
Like a cyborg he pushed on without even a smirk.
Then the Blue Jays prepared for 2009,
And despite all the injuries, the team would be fine.
As Ricciardi chimed in for no good reason,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good season!"
- Happy Holidays from The Blue Jay Hunter!