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Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Nothing was stirring, but my keypad and mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that a SCIF email should have be there.

The injured worker unable to sleep sound in his bed,
While visions of required treatments danced in his head.
And father in his ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I hobbled in pain,
Tore open the shutters and threw up again.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.
After months of delay, and years of deceit,
What arrived next was the postal receipts.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Postal guy Nick.
More rapid than eagles the vultures they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now Donovan! now, Dino! now, Sanchez, and McCall!
On, Margret! On, Philip! I can’t name them all!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

The injured worker cramped in a plane headed off to fly,
he kept meeting obstacles, and mounted to the sky.
So up to Orange County the pilots they flew,
With the documents, bad memories and had been lied to.

Restless and waiting, I heard on the roof
The bad faith musings of each little goof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney the Judge came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
Previous rulings he’d made have been ignored by SCIF
And now the injured worker pays for their mischief.

His rulings were just! his smile how merry!
Why shouldn’t the injured worker believe in his theory
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And again I have to write my name the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And here I am now, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his works,
He ruled on my cases now get to work you jerks.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Your settlement will be fair, and all will be right!”