'Twas the night before New Year's, and all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The children were nestled in their futons so small as in their heads danced visions of salmon rice-balls. They all slept so soundly for they did not know when the otera'd be visited by Daikokuten.
...Okay, so it's not my best attempt at poetry. Read the column instead.