Friday , July 19 2024
"'Twas the Night(mare) Before Christmas" - in the Zombie apocalypse. In honor of 'The Walking Dead' and apologies to Clement Clark Moore

‘Twas the Night(mare) Before Christmas’ – ‘The Walking Dead’ Style

As a relative newbie to AMC’s great show The Walking Dead, I thought it appropriate to show my adoration for the series with a bit of a holiday homage. For a more serious discussion of what I think makes The Walking Dead awesome, take a peek at my “Best of 2014″ for the series.

With apologies to Clement Clark Moore, my “Night(mare) before Christmas” homage to The Walking Dead. Happiest of Holidays to all of my readers, and thank you for a great year!


‘Twas the night(mare) before Christmas,
And the campfire unfurled.
Not a creature was stirring, neither zombie nor squirrel.
The rifles were hung on a branch with such care,
And the crossbow lay close in case a walker would dare.

The children were nestled all snug as they might,
Prepared just in case they had to take flight.
Michonne with her sword sitting ready in her lap,
While Carl, Judith, and Father Gabriel took a quick restless nap.

When far in the distance there arose such a clatter,
Rick sprang from his bedroll to see what was the matter.
Away to the forest he flew like a flash,
Hoping at least this night they be spared from a walker clash.

The moon on the breast of some new-fallen snow,
Gave the lustre of midday to objects below.
When, what to Rick’s wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature truck pulled by eight tiny deer.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now Carl! now, Judith! now, Rick and Carol!
Now, Maggie and Glenn! Now Michonne, and now Daryl.
To the top of the trees! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

And there he stood, dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
“Hershel?” Cried Rick, so happy he could scream,
But he’d had these before; alas ’twas only a dream.

But he seemed so real, his dimples how merry!
His cheeks like Cherokee roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

A snap of a branch and Daryl was ready,
His crossbow poised, cocked, and steady.
“So much for Christmas,” he growled, dousing the fire
Just as a new herd of walkers appeared just outside the wire.

Feel free to add your own verses below!

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About Barbara Barnett

A Jewish mother and (young 🙃) grandmother, Barbara Barnett is an author and professional Hazzan (Cantor). A member of the Conservative Movement's Cantors Assembly and the Jewish Renewal movement's clergy association OHALAH, the clergy association of the Jewish Renewal movement. In her other life, she is a critically acclaimed fantasy/science fiction author as well as the author of a non-fiction exploration of the TV series House, M.D. and contributor to the book Spiritual Pregnancy. She Publisher/Executive Editor of Blogcritics, (

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