Bipolar Night Before Christmas

‘twas the  night  before Christmas and at the north pole
Not one elf was resting not one bloody soul.

No matter they tried they couldn’t keep up with Big Red
And the visions of grandeur that danced in his head

From task to task and to the next present he’d leap
When in a mood like this he had no need for sleep

His words came quickly tumbling one after another
Only interspersed by long periods of laughter

All round the village the White Beard would sing
And to a fragment of sanity he’d delicately cling

The elves were concerned and cried, “Santa slow down”
With your nose red and glowing you resemble a clown

The elves still recall how they found him that morn
He’d been up all night but there was barely a yawn

He’d spent all night with a computer screen
Not snug in bed where he should have been

Spending indiscriminately on ebay and such
He didn’t realize his mind was out of touch

His mood was so frantic, much more than jolly
To listen to him would be more than just be folly

But he paid them no mind, he didn’t have a care
He didn’t realize he should be in a psychiatrist chair

And he told the Elves, don’t be concerned dont be distressed
There’s 364 other days on which to be depressed

With his antipsychotics on the shelf by the bed
He went off to the stable to ready his sled

Then the sled took flight with a ho, ho so satanic
You could easily think that Santa was manic

Landing on rooves with a bang and a clatter
Climbing down chimneys as mad as a hatter

Delivering presents all around the world
As his sanity became more and more unfurled

But what else could he do in this season of stress
Except climb once again on the Bipolar Express