Here is a surfing rendition for Sydney's northern beaches of the classic poem "Twas the Night Before Christmas".
I hope you enjoy and have a wonderful Christmas eve!
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'Twas the night before Christmas, and down on the break,
Not a surfer was surfing, it was flat as a lake;
The boards were hung from the patio with care,
In hopes that better surge would soon would be there.
The newbies were drunk, heading off to their beds,
While visions of breaking waves crashed in their heads,
With my girl in her bikini, and I in my shorts,
We had just finished work and were ready for sports.
When out on the beach, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my couch to see what was the matter,
Away to the window, I flew like a flash,
Tore off the windscreen with a big crash.
The sun was setting, on the cresting green waves,
Gave the fresh rolling barrels the look of caves,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a dude on a surfboard with red and white gear.
A vintage balsa board, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.
Dolphins joined him, as a pod they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Shelly! now, Collaroy! now Bower and Winky!
On, Newport! On Narrabeen! On Freshie! and Manly!
To the top of the crest! to the top of the wall!
Now surf away! Surf away! Surf away all!"
And snapping the waves with cutbacks that fly,
When they met with beach, they took to the sky;
So up to the rooftops the dolphins they flew,
With the board towing toys, and St. Nicholas too—
And then, with a splash, I heard on the deck,
The old man himself, keeping the pod in check.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Into the kitchen St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed in a wetsuit, from his head to his foot,
And slipping and sliding he struggled to stay put;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And sand went everywhere as he tossed down his sack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his sunnies, how merry!
His cheeks slashed with zinc, his nose like a cherry!
He had a tanned face and a round keg of a belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
It was clear to me, that he was no elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a toss of his head,
I thought he was fictitious, but I was mislead.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And pulled out the prezzies, then turned with a jerk,
New rashies and soft boards for all of the groms;
And for all of the surfers, cold beer and fresh thongs,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, off the patio he rose;
He sprang to his board, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all surfed, like riding a missile.
They carved left and right, making no mistake;
Ripping up the clouds and leaving a wake.
But I heard him exclaim, as he dived out of sight—
“Merry Christmas mates, and to all a g'night!”
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