Twas the Night Before a Marathon

Twas the night before the marathon, when all through the hotel
Not a runner was stirring, not even a Sal.
Their tights were hung by the closet with care,
In hopes that St. Lou would soon be there.
The runners were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of p.r's danced in their heads.
And Jan in her flannel and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long pre-race nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Straining my hamstring and passing gas.
The moon shown clear on the parking lot below
When, what should appear,
But St. Lou and his eight fast marathoners.
With the little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Lou and his team,
More rapid than Kenyans they came
And St. Lou whistled and shouted their names!
Now Radcliffe,now Hall, now Rupp and Goucher!
On Samuleson, on Salazar, on Rodgers and Shorter!
To the top of the balcony! To the top of the hotel!
Now sprint away! Sprint away! Sprint away all!
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each fast foot
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
In the door St. Lou came with a bound.
He was dressed all in Brooks, from his head to his foot
And his clothes were all sweaty from running amok
A bundle of shoes he had flung on his back,
And he looked a Fleet Feet employee, just coming from the back.
The last bit of a Hammerbar he held tight in his mouth,
and the crumbs stuck to his beard for a later snack.
St. Lou had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
St. Lou was chubby and plump, a right jolly old runner,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
St. Lou spoke not a word, but went straight to work,
And filled all the tights, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, out the door he then closed.
St. Lou sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all sprinted, like the Olympic 200.
But I heard St. Lou exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
Happy marathons to all and to all a good night!