'Twas the night before Christmas out here at the camp.
The muskrats were hung outside on the fence.
The stockings were nailed by the stove on the wall, praying that Papa Noel would soon give a call.
The children were lying inside on the floor, and the flies were all resting on top of the door.
Pop in his undies and mom in her jams, had just taken the yams from the pan.
The supper was cooking on the old wooden stove and the dogs were all howling at the moon in the cold.
Then I heard a noise from the bayou and trees, as I ran to the window and fell to my knees.
And what to my wandering eyes did I see, a pirogue and eight tiny gators pulling my pal Papa Noel.
The pirogue was pulled by the gators ahead, when he cracked his whip on top of their heads.
He called them by name as he made them to swim, pull Tophille, Tee Bill, Nonke Phil and Clotille, come on Gaston, Tee Pierre, Trosclair and Tee Daire.
To the top of the waves to the top of the waves, now splash away, splash away, splash away all.
As teals in hunting season fly when they hear gunshots and they mount to the sky.
So up to the porch of the camp they flew, with a pirogue full of toys and Papa Noel too; and then on the porch I heard the gnashing and clashing of each gators teeth.
As I turned my head and looked around, down like a bomb, Papa Noel hit the ground.
He had a camouflage suit and a hat made of fur, and his boots were all full of mud and odeur.
He had a sack full of toys that hung from his back, and his cheeks and his nose were as red as his pack.
His mouth it was shaped like a bow, his beard it was white as snow. And the smoke that came from his pipe, it circled his head and went out of sight.
His face it was broad and he had a little round belly that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He winked his eye, twisted his head to let me know everything was all well. He did not talk, but to the stockings he walked, and then as he toiled, he filled them full of toys.
He placed his finger on the side of his nose, gave a nod, and off the porch he rose.
He sprang to his pirogue, to his gators gave a whistle, and away they flew like they were in a missile.
Seems I heard him exclaim as he flew away that night, Joyeux Noel tous, et tous un bon soir.
(Robert Bess Cheramie)
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.
Bob
