Disclaimer: I do not own Pretty Little Liars. It belongs to Sara Shepard. I do not own The Night Before Christmas, it belongs to Clement Clarke Moore.
Characters: A, Aria, Hanna, Spencer, Emily, Jenna, Melissa, Jason, Courtney, Ali
'Twas the Lies Before Christmas
Happy holidays to all of my Pretty Little Liars. Now, girls, for your gift, I wrote you a little poem. Rather, Clement Clarke Moore wrote it and I added my own twist to it. Don't get too worked up, it was nothing really. Just keep a lock on your lies this Christmas because I'm watching.
Here you go, young liars.
'Twas the Lies Before Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a liar;
The lies were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Ali soon would not be there;
The liars were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of A danced in their heats;
And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled out brains for a long liars nap—
When out on the lawn there arose such a liar,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a liar,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon, on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a luster of midday to the lies below;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a miniature lie and eight tiny liars,
With a little young liar, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Alison Dilaurentis.
More rapid than eagles her coursers they came,
And she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Aria! Now, Spencer! Now, Hanna and Emily!
On, Jenna! On Courtney! On Jason and Melissa!
To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall!
Now, lie away, lie away, lie away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with a lie, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they lie,
With the sleigh full of lies—and Ali too.
And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof
The prancing and lying of each little liar.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Ali came with a bound.
She was dressed all in black from her head to her foot,
And her clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of lies she had flung on her back,
And she looked like a liar just spilling her lies.
Her eyes how they twinkled! Her dimples how mysterious!
Her cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the blonde of her hair was as white as snow.
The heels of her shoes she held tight in her hand,
And the pink color of her nails.
She had a hear shaped face and a little belly
That seemed to make her lies all the liars turn to jelly.
She was skinny and medium, a right jolly young liar,
And I laughed when I saw her, in spite of myself.
A wink of her eye and a twist of her head
Soon gave me to know I had plenty to dread
She had spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying her finger aside his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney she rose.
She sprang to her sleight, to his liars gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle;
But I heard her explain, ere she drove out of sight,
"Happy Lies to all, and to all a good-night!"
Did you enjoy it, little liars? I'm sure that you did. Now, don't drink too much eggnog and be safe this Christmas. I may slack off now, but I'll be back after the New Year.