'Twas the night before the night before the night before Christmas and in the Sumner-Smith house,
not a person was sleeping, not even a mouse.
Backsplash tiles had been stuck to the wall with care
but no mere silicon caulking could convince them to stay there.
They dropped and they fell and they made such a clatter;
All dispaired when they saw the cause of the matter.
The wall, once pure and clean like new winter snow,
Now had gaping holes where small tiles should go.
The silicon that should hold them was doing no such thing
And the plastic backing pulled tiles off in huge long strings.
"Oh heavens," they said, "oh woe, this terrible day!
How can this be grouted with the tiles looking this way?"
So with their dinners barely settled and the night getting long
They settled into the kitchen to glue the tiles back on.
Armed with Liquid Nails and a scraper and plenty of patience,
The bold group of do-it-yourself-ers went to work for their relations.
The loose tiles were removed, their gooey backs stripped,
'Til from all fingers (and hair) silicon goop dripped.
For hours the family worked in that almost-completed kitchen,
Determined not to leave until the backsplash looked bitchin'.
They were hot and bored, they were headachy, they were tired,
Until at last in frustration the lot of them cried:
"Now on the wall, on the wall, stay on the bloody wall!
Stay on the wall, stay on the wall, STAY ON THE WALL!
To the bottom of the cupboards, to the top of the sink,
The lot of you tiles are damn well going to stick!"
At last the tiles were glued down to the very last one;
The backsplash looked beautiful and perfectly-done.
The daughter finally said, "That was fun, truly a delight,
But I think anything else must wait 'til first light."
With a silicon-caked hand she waved in farewell,
And turned to descend the basement stairwell.
"Those tiles look good, we did all right,
Now to one and all, a most heartfelt goodnight."