In observance, something special…
Twas the Night Before Christmas, Boater Style
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the boat,
nothing was stirring, not even a bilge pump float.
The stockings were hung from the flybridge with care,
in hopes that the fishing rods would soon be placed there.
The crew was all nestled and snug in their cabins,
with visions of fishing, hunting, and crabbin’.
And momma in the V-berth, me right beside,
had just settled into our mooring by the ocean-side.
When out on the docks there arose such a clatter,
I darted to the deck and made the shrimp scatter.
Back to the transom I ran without introspection
with just a gaff in my hand, for personal protection.
I heard “Now Dasher, now Dasher, on Prancer and Vixen,”
over the sound of a cranky outboard that needed some fixin’.
To the carb, to the cylinders, mix that fuel with air,
firewall the throttles, and do not despair.
As dry leaves that fly when the gusty winds blow,
that outboard did fire and the exhaust port did glow.
And in towards the dock Santa Claws did roar,
in his 18-foot bayboat, filled with presents galore.
He pulled up to a houseboat, all stinky with mildew,
and shut down the outboard he would soon start anew.
Captain St. Nick leapt from the top of the console and flew through the night,
he past right over the houseboat, his leap had such might.
I heard a big “SPLASH!” and waves rippled under the dock,
but I knew he would be safe since he had on an inflatable frock.
Just to be safe I reached the gaff out,
and yelled “Grab here Santa, I’ll haul you up like a trout.
But this Santa didn’t need help, I should have known,
for he was much saltier and nautical than his land-loving clone.
“Always wear your PDF” he yelled as he swam past with might,
“Have lots of fun boating, and to all a good night.”
Happy holidays, boaters!