With apologies to Major Henry Livingston Jr.

Twas the weekend before Xmas,
And I had need to hear house,
Some breaks would be groovy,
Rare groove truly grouse,
A bit of progressive,
Some trancier sounds,
Aghast, this is Sydney,
Where such nights don’t abound.

Yet one balmy Friday,
In the Yuletide season,
Along came a night,
To fill me with reason,
To leave my four walls,
And venture outside,
To strap myself in,
And get ready to ride,

Going solo is fine,
Being partners is cool,
To say no to a threesome,
You’d have to be a fool,
So a threesome it is,
And the line-up’s a treat,
Three very different nights,
Are all set to meet,

Giftwrapped was the name,
Of this seasonal fare,
To miss such a night,
Was all I could bear,
So with a swish of my wardrobe,
And the clomp of my shoes,
I departed for the Burdekin,
For myself to amuse.

In through the door,
And up the winding stairs,
To be presented with a jolly chap,
Selling his wares,
“Now, PASHERS! now, DANCERS! now, PRANCERS and VIXEN!
Onya, GROMMITS! and CUPIDS! onya HONEYS, Even SPITCHEN!
To the bar all at once! Then onto the dancefloor!
Now dance away! Dance away! Dance away all!”

And dance so I did,
‘Til my feet were so sore,
Then I screamed out loud,
Give me more, GIVE ME MORE!
On the first level,
Normally Clean and Serene,
The music rocked hard,
As per normal routine,

Santa’s little helpers,
Jackster, Tazman, Mike M,
Were dishing our aural gifts,
All manner of gems,
Jules Beaumont made an appearance,
And laid down the phattest of tunes,
And the crowd they did love it,
And grooved like absolute loons,

Yet there was more come,
Like a cake with many tiers,
Level 2 was the place,
Where one could draw back the years,
Danny Bass on a mission,
Like a man driven insane,
Driven by his desire,
To bring back Motown again,

And breaks was soon to follow,
With a dollop of hip hop,
There was nothing I could do,
To make my feet stop,
So up one more flight,
To the top of the Burdekin so tall,
Liberty ain’t just for Iraqis,
It’s open to us all!

Alas, whilst the music was great,
Melodic and trancey,
There was a distinct lack,
Of people getting dancey,
A shame that so much,
Was sampled by so few,
Where are those purists?
Whose complaints cannot be subdued?

“Where are the nights,
Of music far from the norm”,
They cry, “Sydney must change!”
Time to reform!”
Well here was your chance,
To support such an evolution,
Whilst you talk a good game,
Where was your contribution?

The end of the night,
Came all to soon,
As the sun rolled along,
To take over from the moon,

But there is always room for another,
As is usually the way,
A tune to send us off,
As night becomes day,
And I heard Mr DJ exclaim,
As he ended the night,
“HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL,
AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!”