Sunday, December 16, 2007

Twas the Night Before Christmas - Cajun Style


*by "Trosclair", Pelican Publishing Co.
‘Twas the night before Christmas
An’ all t’ru de house
Dey don’t a t’ing pass
Not even a mouse
De chirren been nezzle
Good snug on de flo’
An’ Mamm pass de pepper
T’ru de crack on de do’.

Den Mama in de fireplace
Done roas’ up de ham
Stir up de gumbo
An’ make bake de yam.
Den out on de by-you
Dey got such a clatter
Make soun’ link old Boudreau
Done fall off his ladder.

I run like a rabbit
To got to de do’
Trip over the dorg
An’ fall on de flo’.
As I look out de do’
In de light o’ de moon
I t’ink “Manh, you crazy
Or got ol’ too soon.”

Cuz dere on de by-you
W’en I stretch ma’ neck stiff
Dere’s eight alligator
A pullin’ de skiff.
An’ a little fat drover
Wit’ a long pole-ing stick
I know r’at away
Got to be ole St. Nick.

Mo’ fas’er and fas’er
De ‘gator dey came
He whistle an’ holler
An’ call dem by name:
“Ha Gaston!
Ha, Tiboy!
Ha, Pierre an’ Alcee’
Gee, Ninette!
Gee Suzette!
Celeste and Renee!”

“To de top o’ de porch
To de top o’ de wall
Make crawl, alligator
An’ be sho’ you don’ fall.”

Like Tante Flo’s cat
T’ru de treetop he fly
W’en de big ol’ houn’ dorg
Come a run hisse’f by
Like dat up de porch
Dem ole ‘gator clim!
Wit’ de skiff full o’ toy
An’ St. Nicklus behin’.
Den on top de porch roof
It soun’ like de hail
W’en all dem big ‘gator
Done sot down dey tail.

Den down de chimney
I yell with a bam
An’ St. Nicklus fall
An’ sit on de yam.
“Sacre!” he axclaim
“Ma pant got a hole
I done sot ma’se’f
On dem red hot coal.”

He got on his foots
An’ jump like a card
Out to de flo’
Where he lan’ wit’ a SPLAT!

He was dress in musk-rat
From his head to his foot
An’ his clothes is all dirty
Wit’ ashes an’ soot.
A sack full o’ playt’ing
He t’row on his back
He look like a burglar
An’ dass fo’ a fack.

His eyes how dey shine
His dimple how merry!
Maybe he been drink
De wine from blackberry.
His cheek was like a rose
His nose like a cherry
On secon’ t’ought maybe
He lap up de sherry.

Wit’ snow-white chin whisker
An’ quiverin’ belly
He shook w’en he laugh
Like de stomberry jelly!
But a wink in his eye
An’ a shook o’ his head
Make my confi-dence dat
I don’ got to be scared.

He don’ do no talkin’
Gone straight to his work
Put playt’ing in sock
An’ den turn wit’ a jerk.

He put bot’ his han’
Dere on top o’ his head
Cas’ 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 clim’ 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’!”

5 comments:

Ted D said...

How many Santa's do you believe in, anyway?

Good stuff, Tex.

Tex said...

I'm sure there's a Santa Beckett

Ted D said...

I'm guessing THAT story wouldn't be geared toward the kids, huh?

"Merry &*^%$#@ Christmas!"

Tex said...

uhm yah something like that. Beckett's idea of a great christmas is killing a Muy Grande in the morning and a nice fat doe in the eve

Ted D said...

He looks like he's hunting when he's on the mound: stomping around and looking for something to hit.