Twas the night before Search-mas

Here’s our take on “The Night Before Christmas”….Season’s Greetings everyone!

Twas the night before Search-mas, and all through the office,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Laurence.
The Meta was placed in the title tag with care,
In hopes that St. Google soon would be there.

Young Steve was dosing in his office chair,
While rubbish Christmas songs drifted through the air.
Sam with his porridge and wafer thin jacket,
Had just finished wrapping his Secret Santa packet.

When little site crawlers reviewed content in bold,
We knew in a moment they were sent from Search Console.
More numerous than bad links and from link farms they came,
St. Google he shouted, and called them by name.

“Now Penguin! Now Panda! Now Hummingbird and Pigeon!
On desktop PC, tablet and iPhone.
To the top H1 tag! To the footers of them all!
Now crawl away, crawl away, crawl away all!”

And then with an inkling we sensed on the site,
The ranking adjustments, changes ever so slight.
We finalised content, built links, changed categories around,
Into the sitemap came St. Google with abound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his toes,
And his clothes were all tarnished with robots and code.
An increase in rankings he had flung on his back,
And looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

The stump of a manual action he held tight in his teeth,
The threat of sandboxing surrounding his head like a wreath.
He had a huge domain authority, and a large citation flow,
That strengthened every day, just thought you should know.

He was loaded and plump, a right jolly old search engine,
And we laughed when we saw him and his robots again.
Some PPC advice and a word in Kathryn’s ear,
Soon gave us to know we had nothing to fear.

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
And increased all our rankings then turned with a jerk.
And laying his SERPs aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, out of the sitemaps he rose.

He sprang to his algorithm, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of site,
“Happy Search-mas to all! And to all, a good night!”