T'was the week before Christmas and all through the house, could be heard Paris and Chris shrieking, and not from a mouse.

The shrimp were speared on the cone with care,  In hopes that Terriblo would soon be there.   The roommates were nestled all snug in their beds; While visions from Lovecraft danced in their heads;   And Paris in her hoodie, and Chris in his too, Continued to slice and spear as the Shrimp Tree grew.   When out in the kitchen there arose such a clatter, The roommates sprang from their beds to see what was the matter.   Away to the kitchen they flew like a flash, Tore open their doors and heard a loud crash.   The fluorescent light casting shadows o'er all, Masking the tears of laughter as they fall,   When what to their horrified eyes did slam, But a shrimp tree and a vegetable lamb,   With two friends so lost in their crafts, They knew in a moment they must have gone daft,   More mad than a hatter as they wondered who to blame, And they whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:   "Now, olives! now, shrimp! now eggplant and styrofoam! On, turnips! on, carrots! on, eggplant and cone!   To the top of the kitchen! to the top of the wall! Now craft away! Craft away! Craft away all!"