A Visit from St. Nostrolas / The Night Before Christmas
Adapted by Rustypuppy from a poem by Clement Clarke Moore


Twas the night before Christmas, when all in the house
Were quietly sleeping, except me and my spouse. 
The relays were placed by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nostrolas soon would be there.

The plebs were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of zapping danced in their heads;
And mom on her Android, and me on my Apple
Had just settled by the fire to listen to its crackle.

When out in the street there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the door I flew like a flash,
And undid the lock to see who had crashed.

The moon shone brightly upon the ice and snow
Giving all things around a silver-toned glow.
When what to my searching eyes did display,
But eight tiny nostriches pulling a sleigh.

With an open protocol that cannot be bossed,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Nost.
Better than X or the Book of Face,
He called to all to come and embrace:

It's global, it's social, it's decentralized;
It keeps identity private from corporate eyes.
Get your nsec and npub and client and go,
write all your notes and help the Nostr to grow.

None can tame it or trap it or make it stop.
Decentralization is the way to adopt.
So up to the housetop the nostriches flew
With the sleigh full of NIPS, and St. Nostrolas too -

And up on the roof, I heard through the snow,
The scratching and tapping of each little toe.
As I closed the door and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nostrolas came with a bound.

His body was covered, from his head to his foot,
By a large, thick cloak, all tarnished with soot.
A bundle of boxes he'd flung on his back,
Gently he withdrew them and began to stack.

His eyes, what color? Were they mismatched?
His face, a glimpse I never did catch.
But I saw a smile, the gentle lift of a cheek,
And I suddenly felt the world become far less bleak.

Then he shimmered and his cloak changed color.
Astonished, I realized he was now another.
Again and again: five, ten, twenty - 
St. Nostrolas was not one, he was many!

The spirit of developers, working all the time;
He'd brought us their gifts for far less than dimes.
He gave a nod of his head and the thumbs-up sign.
I sighed in relief; everything would be fine.

He spoke not a word, but finished his work
Connecting all the relays ... was that a tiny smirk?
He turned to me, gave a two-fingered salute,
Then stepped on the hearth and flew up the chute.

He sprang to his sleigh, gave his nostriches a cry,
And they ran off the roof and into the sky.
But I heard him exclaim, as he disappeared from sight - 
"Sovereign freedom for all, and to all a good night!"