‘Twas the night before the Pop Out and all through the house,
Not lots could be heard over Cacc’s blood curdling shouts;
The gang was crowded ‘round the table, looking forward to a festive feast,
Slapping down sixes and sevens, matching colors to compete.
The faux yule fire was burning, illuminating the Christmas Tree;
Packed neatly with wrapped presents, from Zeb’s sponsors to handout for free.
When the game comes to a close, and stomachs stuffed tightly;
They lay there in their beds, all neat and tidy.

Some can’t wait to see what the long day at Trollhaugen brings ahead;
Many aspirations and hopes keep them from going to bed.
With the sunrise some wake, feeling bright with Christmas cheer;
Some slowly trickle out of bed, feeling a bit of last night's beer.
Cooking Eggos and bacon the gang fills their tummies;
While some search around aimlessly, for clean socks like dummies.

Off to the tree farm, the crew links up;
Picking out a perfect tree with ease, who has such luck?
Up to the hill in their respective stead’s they all go;
After grabbing tickets, it’s down to Marsha’s office to say hello.
Away on the rope tow the gang makes their way,
Dragging sacks of Christmas goodies to hand out this fine day;
Once on slope; the ornamented tree is lit up dazzlingly,
Tricks commence to be landed, lines linked quite finely.
The Grinch shoves Grace, pushing her down to her knees;
To be followed by a backside nosepress, done with such ease.

Down to El Toro the session is moved;
After just a few hits, the lip becomes quite grooved.
With the Pop Out underway, some can’t help feel greedy;
Once a frontboard pretzel is landed, it becomes a feeding frenzy.
As the present pile dwindles, the end can be seen clearly;
I’m sure I’m not the only one, who wished this could be done yearly.
Just a few presents to go; the gang wants something to remember,
Who will win the JBL Xtreme 4? Is there even a contender?

When out of nowhere, done in a flash;
Homie throws backside three-sixty 50-50; frontside three-sixty off, without crash
Upon arrival, his trick is celebrated joyously;
Shouts heard ‘round the rope, they all cheered rather noisily.
He makes sure to inform all, “that trick was done switch;”
You can’t help but think to yourself, ‘Holy cow, son-of-a-bitch’.
The lip is closed off; and kids are standing with gifts soundly;
Here comes the big, bad Grinch to pick a fight so proudly.
In one swift motion, the tree is swept from its place;
Cacc tries to chase after, falling flat on his face.
With the tree being stolen, disappointedly furrowing your brow;
So next it's down to the bar, for one or two Spotted Cow.