‘Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by Canadians with care,
In hopes that Rob Carrick (err, St. Nicholas) soon would be there.
As Canadian Capitalist’s children nestled into their beds,
Visions of ETFs danced in their heads.
With mamma in her ‘kerchief and Big Cajun Man in his cap,
They just closed their blog for a brief winter’s nap.
When over on Moneyville there arose such a clatter,
Boomer & Echo jumped up, geez, what’s the matter?
Away to the window the bloggers quickly dashed,
They tore open the shutter and they threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre to stocks only Susan Brunner would know.
When what to wondering eyes should appear,
But stocks were on sale along with eight tiny reindeer!
With a little old driver, looking so lively and quick,
Preet Banerjee knew it must be St. Nick.
More punishing than taxes Michael James would exclaim,
Dan Bortolotti agreed, so they shouted by name:
“Now TFSA! Now RRSP! On Prancer and Vixen!
Great registered accounts, so get saving – Donner and Blitzen!
To the highest mutual fund fees, please avoid them all,
Andrew Hallam says so, and yells: that includes covered calls!”
As debt-loads for Canadians reach into the sky,
Our Bank of Canada Governor has solutions ready to fly.
So up to the house-top, the coursers they flew,
The bloggers brought some toys and St. Nicholas did too!
And then we all heard up on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As Retire Happy and SPF listened, their heads turned around,
Down the chimney St. Nick came, with a loud crashing bound!
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
His clothes were tarnished like ashes and soot.
A bundle of options, St. Nick flung over his back,
Million Dollar Journey was not pleased when he opened that pack!
His eyes – how they twinkled! His emergency fund how merry,
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His savings account was full, very tidy, like a bow,
Something David Chilton would be proud of, something he writes about – don’t you know?
The stump of a pipe, he held it tightly in his teeth,
Like savings smoke flowed, encircling his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook like the markets when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
So the bloggers bought some shares in spite of themselves.
A wink of his eye, a look to Passive Income Earner instead,
Soon gave me to know, bear markets we don’t dread.
St. Nick spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Filling stockings with bonds, fixed-income should always lurk.
And laying a finger, aside of his nose,
Beating The Index saw him, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight.
Merry Christmas all bloggers, all readers and to all a good night!
Thanks to everyone who supported My Own Advisor in 2011.
I’ll be back in a few days. Until then – Happy Holidays!