A humourous and Pagan version of the Night Before Christmas. Watch out for a little bit of mature language. Save this one for your Yule celebrations!
  
  The Eve of Midwinter
 'Twas the eve of midwinter, and all through the coven
The Witches were cooking strange things in the oven.
There were mugwart frittatas, and dragon's-blood stew
And mescaline eggnog and mandrake fondue.
There were hot mountain oysters and road-kill pate
And spotted-owl kidneys, and wombat flambe.
The circle was cast and the herbs had been smoked
In hopes that the Goddess would soon be invoked.
When out by the hot tub arose such a clatter
I jumped on my broom to see what was the matter.
And what should I see in the blackberry thorns
but a soaking wet Goddess and eight unicorns!
"I was just sitting down with my vibrating phallus
And a good book," she muttered, "You bitches are callous.
I came when you called, over all my objections,
And got lost in the woods--you give lousy directions.