Deck The Vault
'Twas the Night Before Christmas—In The Vault…
'Twas the night before Christmas, and deep in The Vault,
The cocktails were flowing, no taste left to fault.
The stockings were hung by the bar with great care,
In hopes that fine spirits would soon settle there.
The revelers were nestled in leather-clad seats,
Sipping on libations, both bitter and sweet.
And I in my jacket, with a vintage lapel,
Had just settled in for The Vault's festive spell.
When out by the bar there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my perch to see what was the matter.
Away to the counter I flew like a flash,
Past wreaths and bright garland to the golden-hued stash.
The glow of the chandeliers, timeless and grand,
Gave a luster of magic to drinks in each hand.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a tray of craft cocktails and seasonal cheer.
The bartenders, lively, so skilled and so quick,
I knew in a moment they'd concoct something slick.
More rapid than snowflakes their recipes came,
And they whistled and shouted each mix by its name:
“Now Negroni! Now Old Fashioned! Now Sazerac, too!
On French 75! Let me garnish for you!
To the heart of the vault, to the warmth of the hall,
Drink merry, drink classy, and toast one and all!”
