Merry Christmas from Nassau

We wanted to wish family and friends a very Merry Christmas from the land of warmth and sunshine (apologies to all of you with cold and snow). We also thought we’d share with you a “bedtime” story provided by our friend Dave Kapp in Maryland. (THANKS DAVE !!!)

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

By Clement Clarke Moore or Henry Livingston, Oh…or David Kapp

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Bahamas, not a creature was stirring, except for Gerry in his pajamas.

The anchors were set with the strongest of line, in hopes that St. Nicholas would not forget them this time. But how would he find them in the Islands of blue, should he, would he, for Gerry’s been bad and Linda too.

The fish were all nestled in there coral reef beds, while visions of barracuda danced in their heads.

And Linda in her Crocks, and Gerry with his GPS, had just settled down, nervous that they were lost I guess.

When out of the water there arose such a clatter, Gerry sprang from his bunk, knocked over the charts and tripped on the ladder.

Away to the window Gerry flew like a NSA Rocket, bumping his leg hurting the knee socket. He tore open the sash to take a good look, “I bet it’s the natives stealing my hooks”.

The moon on the breast of the new canvas top, gave luster to the bottle whose cork was not popped.

When, what to his wondering eyes should appear, but eight tiny Pirates, with a little old captain, so lively and quick, Gerry knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid then Marines his coursers they came, and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name; ”Now Gunpowder Gertie!, now Bully Hayes!, now Calico Jack and Satan’s Doom! On, Black Bart! On Pugwash!, On Walker D. Plank and One Leg Buffoon!

To the top of the mast! To the bottom of the keel! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away EEL.

As dry banana leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they swab the deck and poke your good eye, So up to the Crows Nest the coursers they flew, with the ship full of contraband and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, Gerry heard on the deck the Prancing and Pawing of each little Red Neck.

As Gerry drew in his head, and was turning around, down the mast St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed in the threads of Tommy Bahama, from his head to his toes, and his clothes covered with spilled wine all red like his nose.

A bundle of bumpers he had flung on his back, and he looked like a peddler just opening his sack.

His Eyes—how they were glazed! His dimples how scary! His cheeks were like barnacles! His nose all hairy.

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a hook, a black and white beard, it read like a book. For Gerry’s chin was much the same, “It’s the salt in the air I’m sure it’s to blame”.

The burning stump of an Orr he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke it encircled his head like a reef.

He had a peg leg and a big round belly, that made him unstable, his good leg like jelly.

He was chubby and burnt from drinking Top Shelf, and Gerry laughed when he saw him, in spite of himself.

A wink of his eye, and with a look that was too COOL, soon gave way to Gerry this guys loaded with fuel.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled all the tanks; then turned with a jerk, and laying his hand aside his wine soaked clothes, and giving a nod, up the mast he rose.

He sprang to his ship, to his Pirates he gave a good blast, and away they all sailed, the calm seas would not last.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he sailed out of sight, all we sailors in MARYLAND wish you both a wonderful Christmas Night.