The Sailor's Christmas ...
12-13-2005, 07:15 AM
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The Sailor's Christmas ...
'Twas the night before Christmas, compartments were still,
The sailors were sleeping, as most sailors will. The ditty
bags hung by the lockers with care, In hopes that St.
Nicholas soon would be there. The men were all peacefully
dreaming in bed As visions of liberty danced in each head.
The Chief in his skivvies, hopped into his rack, Having just
came from town and a quick midnight snack.
When out on the deck there arose such a roar, I ran to the
porthole to find out the score. I stuck out my head and
started to shout, "Just what in the world is this noise all
about?" A moon made for boondocking showed with a glow, It
was downright cold out, 'bout seven below.
What I saw out there looked like those Mardi Gras floats,
'Twas a Captain's gig drawn by four white Navy goats. In the
boat was a man who seemed quiet and moody, I knew in an
instant St. Nick had the duty. As quickly as Monday his
billy goats came, He whistled and shouted and called them by
name. "Now Perry, now Farragut, Dewey and Jones, What's the
matter John Paul, got lead in your bones? A little to
Starb'rd, now hold it up short, No fluffing off now, or
you'll go on report!"
He was wearing dress "Reds" that fit like a charm, His hash
marks they covered the length of his arm. The gifts to be
issued were all in his pack, The gedunk was ready to leave
on each rack. His eyes they were watering, his nose caked
with ice, He wiped it with canvass, then sneezed once or
twice. He opened his mouth and started to yawn, It looked
like the Sun coming up with the dawn.
The stump of a pipe, he held tight in his teeth, And took a
small nip from a bottle beneath. He wasn't so big, but he
must have been strong, I figured he'd been in SEALs early
and long. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old Tar,
Who said "Evenin' Matey, here have a cigar." He filled every
seabag with presents galore, And left us all leave papers,
right by the door.
With "Anchors Aweigh" he climbed back into place, A broad
smile was creeping all over his face. One look at his watch
and he started to frown, "This mid watch is certainly
getting me down." Then out to the breakwater and into the
night, The gig started fading, the landscape was bright.
"Merry Christmas" he said, as he drove on his way, Now I'll
finish my rounds and sack in for the day."
Merry Christmas,
PISTOL
The sailors were sleeping, as most sailors will. The ditty
bags hung by the lockers with care, In hopes that St.
Nicholas soon would be there. The men were all peacefully
dreaming in bed As visions of liberty danced in each head.
The Chief in his skivvies, hopped into his rack, Having just
came from town and a quick midnight snack.
When out on the deck there arose such a roar, I ran to the
porthole to find out the score. I stuck out my head and
started to shout, "Just what in the world is this noise all
about?" A moon made for boondocking showed with a glow, It
was downright cold out, 'bout seven below.
What I saw out there looked like those Mardi Gras floats,
'Twas a Captain's gig drawn by four white Navy goats. In the
boat was a man who seemed quiet and moody, I knew in an
instant St. Nick had the duty. As quickly as Monday his
billy goats came, He whistled and shouted and called them by
name. "Now Perry, now Farragut, Dewey and Jones, What's the
matter John Paul, got lead in your bones? A little to
Starb'rd, now hold it up short, No fluffing off now, or
you'll go on report!"
He was wearing dress "Reds" that fit like a charm, His hash
marks they covered the length of his arm. The gifts to be
issued were all in his pack, The gedunk was ready to leave
on each rack. His eyes they were watering, his nose caked
with ice, He wiped it with canvass, then sneezed once or
twice. He opened his mouth and started to yawn, It looked
like the Sun coming up with the dawn.
The stump of a pipe, he held tight in his teeth, And took a
small nip from a bottle beneath. He wasn't so big, but he
must have been strong, I figured he'd been in SEALs early
and long. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old Tar,
Who said "Evenin' Matey, here have a cigar." He filled every
seabag with presents galore, And left us all leave papers,
right by the door.
With "Anchors Aweigh" he climbed back into place, A broad
smile was creeping all over his face. One look at his watch
and he started to frown, "This mid watch is certainly
getting me down." Then out to the breakwater and into the
night, The gig started fading, the landscape was bright.
"Merry Christmas" he said, as he drove on his way, Now I'll
finish my rounds and sack in for the day."
Merry Christmas,
PISTOL
,......good one PW.
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