Happy Christmas to All

23 December 2009 By Rubi McGrory

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the yacht,
Not a creature was stirring, they were all on the dock.

Flip flops were scattered about with no care,
Certain the owner wouldn’t appear.

The captain was nestled all snug in his bunk,
The eggnog was strong and he was quite drunk.

The mate in his Gucci and me in my Gap,

Had just poured ourselves a good stiff nightcap.

When out on B dock there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my seat to see what was the matter.

Up the companionway I flew like a flash,
Stumbled and fell and opened a gash.

The moon on the varnish was brighter than bright,
Something aflicker’d the underwater light.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a twenty-foot tender, laden with beer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.

More rapid than a jet boat, his dinghy it came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called us by name!

"Ho, Mate! Ho, Bosun! Ho, Deckie and Stew!

Ho, Captain! Ho Chef! and Dayworker, too!

To the tip of the bow, to the top of the mast,
He mumbled and slurred and pulled out a flask.

He hollered and waved and looked quite unsteady,
And revved up the engine before he was ready.
As I put down my drink, and was turning around,
He drove smack in the wall and made a big sound.

He was dressed all in foulies, from his head to his toes,
His cheeks they were sunburnt and so was his nose.
He didn’t seem bothered, but threw us a line,
We cleated him off while he opened some wine.

His eyes -- they were bloodshot! His movements were shaky,
It was clear at his age his bones would be achy.
He got to his feet and picked up his esky,
Held out his hands and said “Won’t you lads help me?”

We each took an arm to help hoist him out,
This man was not starving, of that there’s no doubt.
We got him ashore, but it took all our might,
He wiped at his brow and said “What a night!”

These reindeer have dragged me all over the globe,
We sideswiped a satellite and hit a space probe!
Bringing playstations and Xboxes to every known address,
It’s too much for an old dude who has no GPS.”

He finished his drink then went straight to his work,
handed out days off, each with a perk.
The chef and the stew go to a spa for the day,
The mate and deckies will surf off the bay.

Then he sprang to his boat, quite spritely with grace,
My heart became honey at the sight of his face.
O’er the engine he shouted, clear like he phoned us,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a big bonus!"