Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the boat house
Not a creature was stirring, except that mouse eating your wiring harness;
The sockets were hung by the tool box with care,
In hopes that Jim Staib soon would be there;
The bottom planks were nestled all snug in their 5200,
While visions of wake surfing danced in their silicon bronze screw heads;
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my skipper cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the driveway 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 breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature Sceeto, and eight tiny Franchini’s,
With a little-ish old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Jim Staib.
More rapid than Fed Ex his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
On, Resorter! on Custom! on, Delux and Riva!
To the top of the Michigan! to the top of it all!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, engine mount to the sky,
So up to the boat house-top the coursers they ran,
With the delivery truck full of fine wood boat parts, and St. Jim Staib too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the deck
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof in Crocs.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Jim Staib came with a bound.
He was dressed all in a Sons of Varnish stuff, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with oil and old varnish;
A bundle of parts 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, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow; (Wait, no it wasn’t. It was a mess, cause Jim had been haling all this crap around folks boat houses and digging through old abandoned boats looking fort parts. Sorry.. But it is true. Now back to our song. )
The stump of a 3 inch copper pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the blue 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. (That is true, I have seen this.)
” He was happy and plump ish, 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 bolts he had just unloaded,
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 nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, 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 sight,
“HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-Woody Boating to all!“