Hey, why are you reading a newspaper on Christmas Eve? Well, alright, if you're gonna read, we're gonna need to do some speed writing, meaning we need to co-op some other writer's work, and pretend it sounds just like our town, and then book it home before Christmas.

Coming over, Milo: Here's some poetry, "This Old Town," put to music and verse by Janis Ian and Jon Vezner:

This old town should've burned down in 1929 / That's when we stood in line / Waiting for our soup / Swallowing our pride.

This old town should've burned down in l931 / When the rain refused to come / Air filled up our bellies / Dust filled up our lungs / And we thought our time had come.

This old town was built by hand / In the dust bowl of the Mother Land /There must be rock beneath this sand / Oh, I'll be damned / This town still stands.

This old town should've burned down in 1944 / When the last men went to war / They came back different / If they came back at all.

This old town should've burned down in 1956 / That's when the twister hit / And all our hopes were buried / Beneath the boards and bricks / And we almost called it quits.

This old town was built by hand / In the dust bowl of the Mother Land / There must be rock beneath this sand / Oh, I'll be damned / This town still stands.

Somewhere in the distance / The city lights do shine / The sidewalks gleam with neon dreams / That call from time to time / When my children's children / Ask me why I didn't go / They say the heart of any town / Is the people you have known / They'll always call you home.

This old town was built by hand / In the dust bowl of the Mother Land / There must be rock beneath this sand / Oh, I'll be damned / This town still stands.

And To All A Good Night.