The Night before - a kinda contest

'Twas the night after Christmas and all on the 'net
were stories of smokes, of scotch and glass sets.
The stockings were empty, the boxes destroyed
Truly Christmas had come, to the girls and boys

The cigars were all nestled all snug in the humi's
cigars and pipes the theme of the day.

Smoke hung thick 'round PNOONs head that night
his eyes glazed over in the monitors light
his thoughts quickly shifted to some bumps at the door
"whats this?" he cried as he ran 'cross the floor.
he opened the portal to see what the hell,
had made so much racket, but didn't ring the doorbell.

Out in the snow a box with his name
he carefully shook it, to hear what's inside,
yet nothing rattled or seemed alive.
perhaps a bomb was packed too well
to hear the tale-tell, tick, ticking

Away cross the land a fur hatted one waits
to see the fate, of the box he had sent,
would it get there too late?

Carefully, Pnoon opened the duct-tape-sealed package.
he winced as the flaps came open to frame
what was inside this this box with his name

Inside a shirt, the color of red, would soon slide over
Peter's round head.
His name on the back, their badge on his chest
surely He thought "dressed as this,"
"I could be one of Anfields best? "

inside was a note along with an H.Upmann to boot,
"Hope you enjoy this, especially in May
When we're on top, and a Champ's League Win."
Scousers are faithful 110 percent.

The furhatted one smiled when he got the PM,
he leaned back and laughed and said
"Merry Christmas My friend."