'Twas a week before Christmas, when along the Ozark Highland Trail not a creature was stirring, except 17 trailblazers and one dog's tail.

Stocking caps were dawned, gloves and hand-warmers too In hopes that the weather wouldn't turn our lips blue.

Down the mountain we trudged, slipping on leaves and rocks, Then crossed Hurricane Creek in our boots and socks.

As we climbed the mountain there was absolutely no clatter We were too pooped to talk and all wished it was flatter.
br> After lunch we moved on to find fallen trees in our way Climbed over and under, but deterred? I say nay! 

Seeing the shuttle drivers return was a beautiful sight. Merry Christmas to all, happy trails and goodnight!