The Yinzers Night Before Christmas as told, Pittsburghies It was night before Christmas.

All through downtown.

Not a Yinzer was stirring.

Weren't no one around?

The stockings needed.

Hung on a chimney.

With care on a kind of Saint Nicholas.

Soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds.

While visions of perogies raced in their heads.

A mom and her babushka and me and my hat had just settled down for a long winter, and at when outside I heard a noise on the lawn.

I sprung to my bed to see what was going on.

To the bathroom window.

I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

My next doo neighbor was out with his cat.

I shouted at him.

Quit being there.

Being a what?

My oglin eyes I seen there on a miniature sleigh, moving my parking chair with a little old driver and a toy field bag.

I knew in a moment that he weren't no Jag.

More rapid than the penguins.

His reindeers came and he whistled and shouted and called them by name.

Now, Donnie, now Ronnie.

Now Prancer and Vixen on comet.

On Cupid, on Donder and Blitzen.

To the top of the stop.

To the top of the wall.

Now dash away, dash away, dash away.

All like a football thrown by.

Roethlisberger flies off into the distance and up to the skies.

So up to the roof.

Reindeer as they flew with the buggy for toys and Saint Nicholas too.

And then a racket I heard on the roof.

The prancing and stomping eac little hoof as I drew in my head Let's turn it around.

Down a chimney.

Saint Nicholas came with a bomb.

He was dressed in black and gold from his head to his foot, and his clod hoppers were tarnished with ashes and soot a boundle of toys he had rung in his sack.

He was round and jolly like Rick Sebak.

his eyes.

How they twinkle his dimples.

How Mary, his nose round and red like a fresh Farkle berry.

His face lit up with a beautiful smile and a beard of his chin waved like a terrible towel.

He smoked like a stee mill with a pipe in his teeth, and the smoke circle his head around like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a gigunda belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and at real jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself.

A wink of his eye, and a flop of his beard.

So let me to know.

I need not be scared.

He didn't say nothing, wen straight to his work, and filled all the stockings and turned with a jerk beside his nose.

He placed his thumb.

And just like that, up the chimney he clung.

He sprang to the roof and flew off in his sleigh.

I hollered out to him, don't take the parkway!

I heard him explain, and he drove out of sight.

Happy Christmas to Yinz!

And to Yinz, Go, Steelers!

The end!

From Pittsburgh's historic woods House, WQED and Cartoon Academy wishe Yinz all a very happy holiday.