With apologies to Clement Moore we present a 33-stanza parody on his traditional poem "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" to show that nothing is traditional anymore in the counterfeit church of conciliarism. We provide this once again with updates in hopes it will be a wake-up call to flee the Novus Ordo lodges.

    M.C. Siena

        'Twas the night of the Clutter and all through the church
        Not a creature was kneeling, leaving Christ in the lurch.
        The banners were hung from the sterile walls with care,
        In hopes that it pleased man in that space over there.

        We sprang to our senses, disturbed by all the clatter;
        Why have so many forgotten what really matters?
        We strove to seek how this all could have taken place
        Of just why the liturgy so drastically changed its face.

        Novus OrdinArians were nestled all snug in their seats,
        In hopes that Father wouldn't forget to bless the wheat.
        He usually did that right along with the wine
        For he assumed to offer them together was fine.

        When in the Missale Romanum 'twas not hidden
        To always go by the book - all else was forbidden.
        To alter anything that would change the Holy Mass
        Would result in a new rite that is really quite crass.

        The moon 'neath Mary's heel was invaded by satan,
        Lurking in the darkness the devil was waitin'
        To enter the sanctuary after many decades at last;
        The Leonine prayers were gone. The die was cast.

        With Montini's blessing eight architects of the New Order
        Ignored the wisdom of past Pontiffs and Conciliar borders.
        They tweaked and tinkered to please the Protestant
        Forgetting the absolute warning issued at Trent.

        To change anything would 'incur the wrath of God,'
        Meant nothing to Bugnini and the periti who trod
        On sacred traditions and the sacraments so divine;
        A new day was dawning, no need now to toe the line.

        Enabled by the jolly Roncalli 23 and Paul 6 - no Pio Nono,
        Certain prelates warned and cried "Please! Oh, No! No!"
        From Ottaviani to Lefebvre, Siri, Depauw, and Thuc too,
        Those clinging to the Traditions were very few.

        For lucifer had marched in, the smoke he had shown.
        How could anyone back then be expected to have known
        What was planted in the minds of gullible people?
        Time to renovate the altar - take down the steeples.

        Move the Tabernacle out, the communion rail, too.
        Then face the crowd and circle around like a zoo
        Statues and devotions were passé, old icons had to go.
        Thus overnight the sanctuary had been transformed. Oh woe!

        The saints no longer twinkled, so barren were the walls
        The nave was so gutted, but that was not all.
        Soon gender meant nothing as they all rushed
        To take the priest's role, "Collegiality!" they gushed.

        Neo-Catholics sprang to their feet, kicking out the kneelers
        Embracing the New Mess as daring free-wheelers.
        Away from sound doctrine the post-conciliar church flew
        Leaving flocks of wondering sheep so confused in the pew.

        From pastor to bishop, and yes, the 'pope', too,
        Continued the course of change begun in sixty-two
        A closing of eyes, a twist of words and it all lead
        To the fact that we truly had something to dread.

        Ecumenism was the mask to qualify globalization.
        Though most Catholics were numb to the liberalization.
        They spoke many words, ambiguity ruled the works
        Filling minds with half-truths. Powerful were the perks.

        Perpetual Adoration gave way to perpetual commotion,
        All are presiders - even offering their own special potion.
        As they belt out songs once considered so profane.
        A community celebrating self. Yes, that is truly insane!

        "Damn the torpedoes," many cried, "full speed ahead!"
        "Forget the altar - we'll eat at the table instead."
        They could do whatever they wanted in this New Rite,
        Now reverence and silence were gone. Noise ruled each site.

        They flood the aisles to receive the host and cup all in rote,
        A half hour of Confessions each week - "It's enough!" they quote.
        Mortal sin! What is that? Truly they have no clue.
        The absolute truths have been hidden from their view.

        Everything has been condensed in the New 'Mass'
        The saints wouldn't recognize it. We, too, shall pass.
        If only 50 years ago we could see how this new innovation
        would scatter and confuse souls from every single nation.

        More rapid than vultures Paul's 'wish' became law
        And the longer he lived he regretted the mess he saw.
        Yet instead of returning to the Latin Mass so true,
        He continued the course which the faithful would rue.

        So the abuses were unleashed from then until now;
        Those out to destroy the Church, oh they would furl your brow.
        Now, Modernists! Now, Liberals! Now, Feminists and Freemasons!
        Now, Heathens! Now, Atheists! Now, Protestants! They all hasten.

        To the top of the Church, to the tops of sees all,
        They sought so vigorously to tear down the walls
        That few realized the wreck-o-vation was continuous.
        Dash away! Dash away! They cried, steely and sinuous.

        Once Latin was the official universal tongue.
        Then Babel was rebuilt on the theories of Jung.
        Psycho-babble slithered in so humans could be free
        To force on souls "Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity."

        Yes, the French Revolution invaded once more,
        This time within Holy Mother Church it did bore.
        What was wrong and sinful in the past was now okay.
        What was right and virtuous is now considered passé.

        Tradition is looked upon as dying on the vine
        "Soon it will be long gone. Victory will be mine,"
        Smirk egos who've managed to bury it so deep
        Not realizing Our Lord's charge of thy brother you keep.

        As dry leaves that before the infernal bonfire burn,
        When truth is compromised few on this course will learn
        That the more absolutes are diminished and put aside
        The faster and more easily on the road to hell souls will slide.

        And then, in a twinkling, it started to occur
        That only a remnant of the faithful were sure
        Of the unchangeable teachings of the True Church
        For so many stubbornly refused the need to research.

        For the long night of the clutter does poison and falter
        The truths taught for 20 centuries on the Holy Altar.
        To convince all that one faith was as good as the next
        They did this quite handily by changing the text.

        From changing the Consecration of the Holy Sacrifice
        By the mere words 'pro multis' to 'for all' they did entice
        Many to let down their guard and allow the devil in.
        Pretty soon few knew the difference 'tween virtue and sin.

        And laying the traditions aside in hopes they'd be lost,
        They would do anything to cover-up, no matter the cost.
        Apostasy's increased with Ratz and Jorge ruling in Rome.
        So many've been blinded. We pray they see that in this tome.

        That what today passes as the 'Mass of the Roman Rite'
        'Tis merely a Protestant service for which Luther did fight.
        Assist only at the true Latin Mass, so tried and so true,
        Which St. Pius V decreed must be said in perpetuity, too!

        For Christmas to truly mean something all must return
        To the Teachings which before Vatican II we did learn.
        If it was right and proper for 20 centuries plus,
        Then why o'er last 5 plus decades has there been so much fuss?

        Tis a question asked by those who seek true reverence
        Yet lo they are treated as if they were in severance.
        Where in truth, to the Faith the faithful remnant cleave,
        While so many others from the Primacy of Peter do leave.

        And we can hear the Angels' words from Scripture so clear
        To have great care for souls who of God's wrath do not fear.
        On that Silent Night the Angels did exclaim on the hill:
        "Glory to God in the highest...on earth peace to men of good will."

        T'was the Night of the Clutter