'Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the grounds, The campers still lay sleeping; there was hardly a sound. The site tag was hung in the truck's front window, In case of the park manager, his face would it show.
As I did arise, with many still in their sack, And stepped out of doors to empty the black. When miles away, there came a big noise; Some started to stir, while I kept my poise.
Inside of the trailers some families worried, With belongings in hand, they started to scurry. When the park manager, tripping out of the rec hall, Had a megaphone in hand, and thus he did call:
Now Fleetwood! Now Airstream! Now Hi-Lo and Jayco! On Coachmen! On Nexus! On Thor and Winnebago! The tempest is coming! The storm it is near! Unhook cords and hoses, and get out of here!
Some guests they did panic, trucks starting with a roar, But leave I did not, for I'd seen this before. I quickly went around with a traffic report, Showing dozens of campers, and said, "Hold the fort."
While walking near the office, there seemed a muffed craze; For the owners sent an e-mail: "The prices will raise." As they met in that place, I heard of their plan: "To get higher rates, the sites must change hand."
Henceforth the others I told, and they decided to stay; For we were savvy travelers, and just would not play. The manager, owner, and client hopped on Zoom, And spread news most dire: "There will be no room."
The caravan passed, disappointed, down the road, And loud cheers erupted from all those abode. I grabbed the park's megaphone, these words I did say: "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good day!"
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