‘Twas the night before Christmas ...
(Gasparilla Island style)
‘Twas the night before Christmas when all over the isle
Not a pelican was stirring, for even a mile.
The stockings were hung by the docks with care
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The seabirds were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of whitebait danced in their heads.
And Ma in her kerchief and I in my cap
Had just settled down for a long island’s nap;
When out on the beach there arose such a clatter
We sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the deck we flew like a flash, through glass
sliding doors in almost a crash.
The moon on the crest of the Gulf below
Gave the lustre of mid-day, all aglow
When what did our wondering eyes define,
But a miniature craft with eight dolphins in line.
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
We knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than fishes his school they came,