Twas the Week before Christmas..
Twas the week before Christmas, I was writing my Reflections email,
not a bird was Kak-kaking, not even a rail;
the crab pots were full on the river I dare say,
I hoped that St. Thomas would soon come my way.
The wiener dogs were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of beggin strips danced in their heads;
and Editor in her nightie, and I with my camera in tow,
had just settled down with a nice cup of joe;
When out on the Broward, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to the dock and slipped on goose splatter.
Away to the marsh I flew like a Red Shouldered Hawk,
Past the Generals branches so I could get a good gawk.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a miniature crab boat and eight peli-cones a makin it float.
With the helm in his hand the driver did steer,
Twas ole St. Thomas a drivin da boat.
More rapid than eagles his pelicans they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name;
now Omar! now Timiquan!, now Whodat and Spunky,
On Fuzzy, on Wuzzy, on George and on Funky!
Up and down the river the pelicans they flew,
Following the crab boat, and St. Tommy, too.
As I picked up camera, and was turning around,
Round the island St. Tommy came with a bound.
He was dressed in an apron from his head to his feet,
and his boots were all tarnished from swamp mud and peat;
a bundle of crab pots he had on his boat,
He beckoned me aboard, and away we did float.
Up and down the river, we sped mighty quick,
I pushed my doohickey, again and again my shutter did click.
Round and round the boat the pelicans flew
And before I knew it my memory card was through.
Pots all filled, I sprang from the boat, gave the pelicans a whistle,
and away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard Tommy exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
Merry Christmas to all (from Reflections on Broward),
and to all a Good Night.