Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the labs
Not a culture was shaking, surely not stabs.
The gloves were hung by the fume hood with care,
In hopes that Science Santa soon would be there.
The undergrads were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of med schools danced in their heads.
And the tech in her goggles, and PI in my coat,
Had just settled our brains after the grant app we wrote.
When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the desk to see what was the matter.
In the corner of my eye from the fume hood- a flash,
I could only hope the grad student closed the sash.
The sudden explosion with its momentary glow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a two-shelf cart, and postdocs to steer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
Could that be Watson? No, must be Crick!
More rapid than eagles his postdocs they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
“Now Cloner! now, Coder! Biochem Kim! and Ecologist Joe!
On, Blotter! Pipettor! Neurosci Guy! and Physicist Flo!
To the top of the bench! Over the ivory tower!
Now dash away! Dash away! Use that brain power!”
As hypotheses will fall victim to the null stand-by,
They meet with an obstacle, but give it another try.
So up to the lab-top the postdos they flew,
With the cart full of supplies, and St Scientist too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the break nook
The postdocs rifling through each lab notebook
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the fume hood St Scientist came with a bound.
He was dressed all in nitrile, from his head to his feet,
And his lab coat was stained and damaged from heat.
A bundle of supplies he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a sales rep, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! For his hypothesis was merry!
But his cheeks were rosy because the methods were scary!
Yet the statistical error of his results was so low
And his conclusions would win the Nobel fo’ sho’.
The end of a pipet he held tight in his teeth,
And the fumes they encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a big smile as the lab got smelly,
He shook as he laughed, like a bowlful of agar not jelly!
He was efficient and quick, even without a kit
And I laughed as his data was perfectly fit
A wink of his eye signaled a friendly peer,
Soon gave me to know I had no review to fear.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his research,
And filled all the gloves, then turned with a lurch.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the fume hood he rose!
He sprang to his cart, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a precision cruise missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he left the ivory hall,
“Reproducible positive results and funding for all!”
Merry Christmas Scientists!
Here is the link to the original Clement C. Moore poem.