It's the night before Christmas, and all through Mojo's home
The 800 is pounding, you can hear it to Rome

His M80 drivers pistoning, from front to the back
He wishes his dustcaps, were white and not black

For Ian has said, white dustcaps are cool
'Cause they dissipate heat, at least one Joule

His 80s are blaring, in his large dedicated space
While Chesser is listening, with QS tens on his face

Soon those 80s, will find a new space
As he upgrades to one hundreds, with much better bass

TAM's rosewood speakers, are tucked in his room
Waiting for an upgrade, so they can go vroom!

TAM loves his speakers, he tells the whole world
But Mojo knows deeply, an upgrade his future does hold

Slim is snowed in, on the New England coast,
Listening to Brystons, as he belts out a toast

"To Ian and Mojo, for Disco Fever mode
I'm so glad Ian knows, his DSP code"

"I'll just keep grazing" says Slim, "in my bountiful place
Until my subs show up, then I'll have no room to pace

I've greased up my spindle, now there's no flutter
With a few more adjustments, there will be no stutter"

Craig's chilling out, showing proper decorum
Listening to music, and reading Pentouse Forum

He was jealous of course, when he did find
Slim's and Mojo's subs, are one-of-a-kind

On top of uniqueness, both of those subs
Have continously variable, phase adjust knobs

They also have dust caps, that are snowy white
They look so righteous, so blingy and bright

Likely the amp, has been upgraded too
Mojo has noticed, the toroid is new

He suspects there's more watts, to deliver dynamics
And keep the bass tight, as it busts his ceramics

I hear Big John laughing, as he pulls down his shorts
And eagerly spies, his extruded vortex ports

Only us old timers know, what Big John likes
And we can only say, it's not carpet spikes

On this Christmas eve, where is Colquhoun?
In the chamber of course, running curves for our tunes

He takes them up top, and then down below
Then moves to each side, and yells out "Whoa!

I have 1000 curves, what the hell do I do?
I'll punt them to Andrew, he'll cook up a filter or two"

And now poor Andrew, he studies the plots
He's been up four days, and starts seeing spots

He wants to poke his eyes out, and ignite his thick hair
There aint' enough beer, or a hope or a prayer

For all of these curves, in order to play nice,
They need DSPs, not a passive device

"We have drivers in front, and drivers behind"
Says Andrew to Ian, as he tries to unwind

"But there's reflections up top, and down below too
They're making our curves, go very askew"

Then it came to Ian, as a brilliant insight
"We need drivers down under, and also pointing upright"

Andrew's eyes did roll, in their sunken eye sockets
And then they exploded, like hot pita pockets

And that is the story, of a company in Dwight
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.