by Jen Stanford

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‘Tis Krampusnacht at the Rathskeller Bar…


Mark December 6 on your calendar.


The Alpine folk-devil will spread holiday fear -


The tradition hearkens back to yesteryear.


A bundle of switches will be tight in his grip-- 


You’ll know in a moment - this isn’t St. Nick.


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Krampus will lurk ‘neath the beers on the shelves

But may stop for a photo in spite of himself.


He’ll be dressed all in fur from his head to his hoof,


Conjuring wickedness under Hermann Son’s roof.


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His eyes, how sinister! His horns, terrifying!


His cheeks hollow tombs, his breath uninviting!

Bad children not sleeping, not snug in their beds,


Will have nightmares of a horned beast trapped in their heads.

 

The moon o‘er St. Mary’s may see no fallen snow,


Give no luster of midday to objects below,


But will glint betwixt fish & chips, golden and crispy - 


Rosey’s food truck on site will serve dinner quickly. 




The bartender that night will go straight to work


Serving beers, perhaps wine, never a smirk, 


More rapid than eagles. You’ll hear her exclaim


Prost! to each patron, calling each beer by name - 

"Ein Spaten, ein Altstadt, ein Warsteiner beer!


Ein Lone Star, ein Shiner, und ein PBR!”

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Then up on the stage there will be quite a clatter,


The Beethoven Men's Choir will sing louder and louder -


Old German carols will be belted with gusto


To usher in the headlining jazz trio - 


 

And what to your wondering ears will you hear ?


The Whale with Jon Horne - otherworldly atmosphere.




 

A new tradition now lives in old San Antone…


Be part of the first one, forget staying at home.


Then once Krampus departs from the festive onslaught 


We hope you’ll behave, that his lessons were taught.


You may hear him utter as he creeps out of sight 


Prost! To all, and to all a good fright.