Monday, December 24, 2007

Merry Christmas Everyone

Twas harvest before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a field mouse.
The corn cribs were stuffed by the farmers with care,
In hopes that corn futures would prove more than fair.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of popcorn danced in their heads.
And ma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the tunda 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 glowing off the new-fallen snow
gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.
When, what did my wondering eyes bestow,
but a bright shiny combine, and eight reindeer cows.

With a little old driver, dressed lively in red,
I knew in a moment it must be our neighbor, Fred.
More rapid than the Duke boys, they came,
whistling and shouting he called them by name!

"Now Elsie! now, Bossie! now, Patches and Rusty!
On, Snowflake! On, Daisy! on, Darcy and Trusty!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the stall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the combine full of Toys, and Old Fred too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Fred came, with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his coveralls were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, I think he’d had a bit too much sherry!
His John Deere hat was pulled way down low,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
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 gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his cap,
gave me a nod, and was gone, just like that!

He sprang to his combine, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew down the tundra, fast as a missle,
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

7 comments:

Doc Terminus said...

From the words in that poem
tundra doesn't seem shoddy,
(It's a lot more rural
than Passamaquoddy)

Thanks for your friendship
and holiday wishes...
your offering of corn
I offer in fishes...

And not to carry on
with this long, verbose ditty,
your tundra is seen
as our twin sister city...

Even with miles
separating our blog sites
I wish you my brother,
the best of Christmas nights...

Glenn

Biblioadonis aka George said...

Looks like I got here too late.
Anything posted after Glenn is not that great.

It has been a wonderful blogging season.
And misspelling Passamaquoddy is grounds for treason.

I promise that I'll stop this awful rhyme before too long.
My thoughts are verbose, although everything I've said, sounds wrong!

caballerofan said...

So are you a native Algonquian?

Biblioadonis aka George said...

heh...Algonquian?

Nope. Just a librarian with a passion for Disney books and Disney blogs!

And Glenn recommended your site a week or so ago.

Rae! said...

Merry christmas.

caballerofan said...

This is just for fun, and did I really spell Passamaquoddy incorret somewhere?
Glenn is a great guy.

The Algonquian language has two major dialects: Maliseet (or Malecite), spoken mainly in New Brunswick, and Passamaquoddy (or Peskotomuhkati), spoken mostly in Maine. There are 1500 speakers of both dialects combined. Very few people in the younger generations speak Maliseet or (especially) Passamaquoddy, which means that the language will die out within this century unless language revival efforts can successfully restore its use among Maliseet and Passamaquoddy children.

Language:: This Algonquian language has two major dialects: Maliseet (or Malecite), spoken mainly in New Brunswick, and Passamaquoddy (or Peskotomuhkati), spoken mostly in Maine. There are 1500 speakers of both dialects combined. Very few people in the younger generations speak Maliseet or (especially) Passamaquoddy, which means that the language will die out within this century unless language revival efforts can successfully restore its use among Maliseet and Passamaquoddy children.

Biblioadonis aka George said...

Caballerofan--

No you didn't spell it wrong. ;)

I just needed to find a word that rhymed with season. And I try to make fun of Glenn at every turn!