How THE VINCE Stole Synthmas

Inspired by Dr. Seuss!

Every Moog down in Moogville
Liked Synthmas a lot...
But the Vince, who lived
Just north of Moogville, did NOT!
The Vince hated Synthmas!
The whole Synthmas season!
Now, please don't ask why -
No one quite knows the reason.
It could be his modules
Weren't screwed in just right.
It could be, perhaps,
That his brogues were too tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all,
May have been that his Abba costume
Was two sizes too small.
Whatever the reason,
His bellbottoms or brogues,
He stood there on Synthmas Eve
Hating the Moogs!
Staring down from his studio
With a sour, Vince-y frown,
At the warm lighted windows
Below in their town.
For he knew every Moog
Down in Moogville beneath
Was busy now hanging a Yamaha wreath.
"And they're hanging their aux cords!"
He snarled with a sneer,
"Tomorrow is Synthmas! It's practically here!"
Then he growled, with his Vince fingers Nervously drumming,
"I MUST find some way to stop Synthmas from coming!"
For Tomorrow, he knew,
All the Moog girls and boys,
Would wake bright and early.
They'd rush for their toys!
And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise!
Noise! Noise! Noise!
That's one thing he hated! The NOISE!
NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!
Then the Moogs, young and old,
Would sit down to make beats.
And they'd drum! And they'd drum! And they'd DRUM!
BEAT! BEAT! BEAT!
On the TR-808, and the rare 909,
The Vince couldn't stand
Moogs having such a good time!
And THEN they'd do something
He liked least of all!
Every Moog down in Moogville-
The tall and the small-
Would stand close together,
With their sine waves ringing.
They'd stand hand-in-hand
And the Moogs would start singing!
They'd sing! And they'd sing!
And they'd SING!
SING! SING! SING!
And the more the Vince thought
Of this Moog SynthmasSing
The more the Vince thought,
"I must stop this whole thing!"
"Why, for sixty-two years I've put up with it now!"
"I MUST stop this Synthmas from coming! But HOW?"
Then he got an idea! An awful idea!
THE VINCE GOT A WONDERFUL,
AWFUL IDEA!
"I know just what to do!"
The Vince laughed in his throat.
And he made a quick Martin Gore
Hat and a coat.
And he chuckled, and clucked,
"Vince, this is art!"
"With this coat and this hat, I look just like Mart!"
"All I need is a harness..."
The Vince looked around.
But, since leather is scarce,
There was none to be found.
Did that stop the old Vince?
No! The Vince simply said,
"If I can't find a harness, I'll make one instead!"
So he went to his closet.
Then he took some old clothes,
And he ripped off the belts
And ripped off the bows,
And he sewed and he toiled
And arranged all the straps,
And he looked just like Martin
With a strange Mohawk hat.
Then the Vince said, "Awright!"
And he went for a run,
With an empty sack to steal
All of the Moog fun.
All their windows were dark.
White noise filled the air.
The Moogs were all dreaming
Sweet dreams (are made of this...)
Without care.
When he came to the first
Little house on the square.
"This is stop number one,"
The old Vince himself hissed,
And he climbed to the roof,
Empty bags in his fist.
Then he slid down the chimney.
A rather tight pinch.
But, if Martin Gore could do it
Then so could the Vince.
He got stuck only once,
For a moment or two.
Then he stuck his head out
Of the fireplace flue.
Where the little patch cables
All hung in a row.
"These cables," he grinned,
"Are the first things to go!"
Then he slithered and slunk,
With a smile most unpleasant,
Around the whole room,
And he took every present!
A Casio CT-6000 with Midi!
An Arp Odyssey 1!
He was feeling so giddy!
And he stuffed them in bags.
Then the Vince, very nimbly,
Stuffed all the bags, one by one,
Up the chimney!
Then he slunk to the studio.
What a terrible cheat!
The TR-808! He took the Moog's beats!
He cleaned out that studio
As quick as a flash.
Why, that Vince stuffed an Omnichord
Right down his sash!
With all the synths stolen,
His eyes glowed black.
"And NOW!" grinned the Vince,
"I need that Euro-Rack!"
And the Vince grabbed the rack,
And he started to shove,
When he heard a small sound
Like the coo of a dove.
He turned around fast,
And he saw a small Moog!
Little Wendy-Lou Moog,
(A cute little rogue)
The Vince had been caught!
By this tiny Moog daughter,
Who'd got out of bed
For a cup of cold water.
She stared at the Vince and said,
"Martin Gore, why,"
"Why are you taking our Eurorack? WHY?"
But, you know, that old Vince 
Was so smart and so slick,
He thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick!
"Why, my sweet little tot,"
The fake Martin Gore lied,
"There's a light on this module that won't light on one side."
"So I'm taking it home to my workshop, my dear."
"I'll fix it up there. Then I'll bring it back here."
And his fib fooled the child.
Then he patted her head,
And he got her a drink and he sent her to bed.
And when Wendy-Lou Moog
Went to bed with her cup,
He went to the chimney
And stuffed the Euro-Rack up!
Then the last thing he took
Was the log for their fire!
Then he went up the chimney, himself
The old liar!
On their walls he left nothing
But hooks and some wire.
And two more things he left
(and no-one knows why),
Was a Korg M1 and a broken Akai.
Then he did the same thing
At every other Moog house
Stealing their synths
In his Martin Gore blouse.
It was quarter past dawn,
All the Moogs, still a-bed,
All the Moogs, still asnooze
When he packed up his sled,
Packed it up with their Casios! Rolands!
And that nice DX7!
All the cords, all the modules,
He was in Vince-y heaven!
Three thousand feet up!
Up the side of Mt. Schneider,
To dump all the synths
(and crack open a cider)!
"PoohPooh to the Moogs!"
He was Vinceishly humming.
"They're finding out now that no Synthmas is coming!"
"They're just waking up! I know just what they'll do!"
"Their mouths will hang open a minute or two,
Then the Moogs down in Moogville will all cry BooHoo!"
"That's a noise," grinned the Vince,
"That I simply MUST hear!"
So he paused, and the Vince
Put his hand to his ear.
And he did hear a sound rising over the snow.
It started in low.
Then it started to grow.
But the sound wasn't sad!
Why, this sound sounded merry!
It couldn't be so!
But it WAS merry! VERY!
He stared down at Moogville!
The Vince popped his eyes!
Then he shook! What he saw
Was a shocking surprise!
Every Moog down in Moogville,
The tall and the small,

Was singing! Without any synthesizers at all!
He HADN'T stopped Synthmas from coming! IT CAME!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!
And the Vince, with his Vince-feet
Ice cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling:
"How could it be so?"
"It came without Korgs! Roland's TB-303!"
"It came without a single EMS-VCS3!"
And he puzzled three hours,
Until his puzzler was sore.
Then the Vince thought of something
He hadn't before!
"Maybe Synthmas," he thought,
"doesn't come from a store."
"Maybe Synthmas, perhaps, means a little bit more!"
And what happened then?
Well...in Moogville they say,
That the Vince's Abba costume
Grew three sizes that day!
And the minute his pants
Didn't feel quite so tight,
He brought back all the gear
In the bright morning light.
And he brought back the Arps!
CV cables so neat!
And he, HE HIMSELF!
The Vince programmed 808 beats!