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Name:
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Nancy Christine II
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Subject:
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Yea,,,,He was here last night.
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Date:
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12/25/2009 12:07:57 PM
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Twas the night before Christmas, and all about the lake
Not a prop was turning, not even a wake;
The outboards were hung on the transoms with care,
In hopes that spring soon would be there;
The forum members were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of big blocks danced in their heads;
And spookeay bird in his cage and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the lake like a piece of glass
Gave the luster of mid-day to the boats all in dry stack.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a A blown kick arss sleigh with 4,550 horsepower,
With a scruffy looking driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St.Cat Nick.
More rapid than eagles his props spinning they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Richie Zuhl! now, Motorguide & Mercury! now, Huber!
On, Cleaver! on, MSD and Garmin!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves blew up in a wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, they shot to sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh at full power full and St.Cat too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The Loping and rummbel of each cylinders lick.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St.Cat came with a bound.
He was dressed all in White the padded fleece, from his head to his toe, He look kinda neat!
And his clothes were all tarnished with grease and snow;
A bundle of boat goody's he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pirrot just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as turning white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a type 4 buoy life ring;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon let me know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then flipped me off like a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving huge and snotty blow and up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his throttles he pushed,
And they all flew away. Like a bad arss rocket boost he went into the air.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he roared out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good old Cathouse Night-night."
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