Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Not even a louse.

The lice had been busy
Feasting on kids
Their hair and their eyebrows and even eyelids.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds
Except for the itching all over their heads.

Myself as the louse mum, ensconced in a cap
Had just settled my brain for a long winter nap
When out in the laundry there arose such a clatter
I sprung from the bed to see what was the matter

Human mother was wielding a lotion or two
‘Anti-Lice’ said the label
And a deep breath I drew.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below
When what do my wandering eyes should appear
But a long line of children,
Their hair wet, eyes clear.

The Mum of the house in a hectoring voice
Said, ‘you’re all getting shampooed,
‘You don’t have a choice.’

I knew in a moment twas curtains for us
I gathered my babies with minimum fuss.
I said, ‘against Quitnits we haven’t a chance.
‘We must snuggle together and dance our last dance.’

All too soon there were floods,
There was soap, there was pain.
We lice shivered and sang out our final refrain.

I remembered the season
That Christmas was nigh.
and I managed to say as we sighed our last sigh.

I farewelled my kids as they flushed out of sight,
‘Happy Christmas to all.
‘And to all a good night!’