My First Christmas On A Ship
From and with thanks to ... Les Dale ... joles@seaside.net
A poem Les wrote on his first Christmas on a ship, with apologies to the real author.
TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the flats.
Not a creature was stirring, not even the rats.
The Matelots were snuggled all warm in their 'micks.
With visions of dancing, of rum and of chicks.
The old man in his night shirt and me in my rack.
Had just settled down for a good night's nap.
When outside the ship there arose such a clatter.
I sprang from my 'mick to see what was the matter.
I crawled to the bulkhead and in a great muddle.
I raised the deadlight and threw open the scuttle.
And what to my bloodshot eyes should appear.
But a drunken old man with a sleigh load of beer.
He came down the uppers, toting his batch.
Till he stumbled along and fell down a hatch.
He picked himself up and gave a great burp.
Said not a word but went straight to his work.
He opened his bag, just bulging with beer.
And filled each stocking with Christmas cheer.
He finished his work and brushed off his clothes.
Taking a deep breath, up the ladder he rose.
He crawled over the brow, to his team gave a hic.
And they whisked him away before he got sick.
He cleared the funnel and drove out of sight.
Saying "Merry Christmas you Matelots and I hope you get tight"
Simply Steve