Cajun Night Before Christmas
As promised to Sara Baker... here is the Night Before Christmas,
Cajun style ~ by James Rice
~ ~ ~ ~
Twas the night before Christmas an' all t'ru de house,
Dey don't a ting pass Not even a mouse.
De chirren been nezzle good snug on de flo',
An' Mama pass de pepper t'ru de crack on de do'.
De Mama in de fireplace done roas' up de ham,
Stir up de gumbo an' make de bake yam.
Den out on de bayou dey got such a clatter,
Make soun' like old Boudreau done fall off his ladder.
I run like a rabbit to get to de do',
Trip over de dog an' fall on de flo'.
As I look out de do'in de light o' de moon,
I t'ink, "Man, you crazy or got ol' too soon."
Cuz dere by de window I stretch ma'neck stiff,
Dere's eight alligator all pullin' de skiff.
An' a little fat drover wit' a long polin' stick,
I know rit at away got to be ole St.Nick.
Mo' faster an' faster de' gators dey came
He whistle an' holler an' call dem by name:
"Ha, Gaston! Ha, Tiboy! Ha, Pierre an' Alcee'!
Gee, Ninette! Gee, Suzette! Celeste an 'Renee'!
To de top o' de porch to de top o' de wall,
Make crawl, alligators, an' be sho' you don' fall."
Like Tante Flo's cat, to de treetop he fly,
W'en de big ole houn' dog come a runnin' by.
Like dat up de porch dem ole 'gators dey climb!
Wit' de skiff full o' toys an' St. Nicklus behin'.
Den on top de porch roof it sound like hail,
An all dem big gators, done put down dey tail.
Den down de chimney, he fell wit' a bam,
St.Nick done fall down on de yams.
"Sacre bleu!" he exclaim, "Ma pants got a hole
I done burned ma'se'f on dem red hot coal."
He got on his feet an' jump like de cat
Out on de flo' where he land wit' a SPLAT!
He was dress in muskrat from his head to foot,
An' his clothes is all dirty wit' ashes an' soot.
A sack full o' playt'ings he trow on his back,
He look like a burglar an' dass fo' a fack.
His eyes how dey shine, his dimples, how merry!
Maybe he been drinkin' de wine from blackberry.
His cheek like a rose, his nose a red cherry,
On secon' t'ought maybe he lap up de sherry.
Wit' snow-white whiskers an' quiverin' belly,
He shook w'en he laugh like de strawberry jelly!
But a wink in his eye an' a shake o' his head,
Make my confi-dence dat I don't got to be scared.
He don' do no talkin' gone strat to his work,
Putin' gifts in socks an' den turn wit' a jerk.
He put both his han' on top o' his head,
Cast an eye on de chimney an' den he done said:
"Wit' all o' dat fire an' dem burnin' hot flame,
Me... I ain' goin' back by de way dat I came."
So he run out de do' an, he climb to de roof,
He ain' no fool, him for to make one more goof.
He jump in his skiff an' crack his big whip,
De' gator move down, An don' make one slip.
An' I hear him shout loud as a splashin' he go,
"Merry Christmas to all 'til I saw you some mo'!"
Copyright ©
Lin Lane
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