merry developer Christmas
Twas the night before launch, when all through the code,
Not a function was stirring, not even a node;
The repositories were nestled all snug in their place,
In hopes that the users would grant them some grace;
The developers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of features danced in their heads;
And QA in their PJs, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
When out on the server there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the keyboard to see what was the matter.
Away to the console I flew like a flash,
Tore open the logs and prepared for a crash.
The light of the monitor, on the freshly-paged screen,
Gave the lustre of midday to objects unseen,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a red error message, filling me with fear,
With a stack trace so long, and a message so terse,
I knew in a moment it must be a curse.
More rapid than eagles his debuggers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now, console.log! now, debugger! now, breakpoints and profiler!
On, git blame! on, stack overflow! to the top of the filer!
To the top of the code! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the cloud the exceptions they flew,
With the sleigh full of bugs, and St. Nick, developer too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the pipeline St. Nick came with a bound.
He was dressed all in flannel, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with coffee and soot;
A bundle of patches he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
The code he held tight in his hand was well-formed,
And he spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the pipeline he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Launch to all, and to all a good night!"