The Night Before Christmas
(With apologies to Clement Clarke-Moore)
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all round the lake
Not a bobbin was stirring, for there’d been not a take;
The weigh slings were hung from the bedchairs with care,
In hopes that St. Carpolas soon would be there;
The anglers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Forties splashed round in their heads,
And Kev in his ‘bivvy, and I in my bag,
Had just settled down for a last minute fag —
When out near the island there arose such a clatter,
That I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the margins I ran at some rate
Tripped over my net, and stepped in my bait
The moon made the snow seem to shine like the sun
And I felt deep inside that I’d not get a run
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny carp-deer
All I could hear was the beat of my heart
For I knew in a moment it must be St. Carp.
More rapid than barbel his carp-deer they swam,
And they bubbled, and fizzed, as they bow-waved past the dam
“Now! Split-Fin, now! One-Eye, now! Red Butt and Tigger,
“On! Mary, on! Two Scale, now where’s The Black Mirror ?
Past the tree by the island hard to the dam wall!
“Now splash away! Splash away! Splash away all!”
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So right into my bivvy the carp-deer they flew
With a sleigh full of tackle — and St. Carpolas too:
And then in a twinkling, there arose such a din
From the flapping and slapping of each little fin
As I drew back my head, and was turning around,
Through the storm poles St. Carpolas came with a bound:
He was dress’d all in Realtree, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnish’d with spod mix and soot;
A bundle of bait was flung high on his back,
And he look’d like a peddler just opening his pack:
His eyes — how they twinkled! His dimples: how merry,
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face, and a little round belly
That shook when he laugh’d, like a bowl full of jelly:
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I couldn’t help laughing in spite of myself;
But a wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And fill’d all the bait cans; then turn’d with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose
And giving a nod, out the bivvy he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all swam, like the down of a thistle:
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight —
“Happy Christmas to all…but watch that rod on the right”
Then I woke with a start and the world had turned blue
And I couldn’t work out what it was I should do
The Star in the East shone so bright all around
And the bivvy was filled with a strange buzzing sound
Then it suddenly dawned on me what was afoot
So I slid off the bedchair and pulled on my boots
The Star in the East was a bright pulsing led
I was away on the margin rod…..just like he’d said
And ten minutes later there lay stretched out on the mat
A magnificent carp: like a great golden cat
With scales that gleamed softly like finely worked gold
And though it was freezing, I didn’t feel cold
Gently into the cradle and up onto the scales
With me cradling her head and Kev holding the tail
I was just so excited my legs they still shook
I wanted to see but I didn’t dare look
“Well done” said Kev softly “you’ve cracked it, old son”
“Once you take off the sling she goes Forty Two-One”
I sat there still shaking, my heart just wouldn’t slow
Was it all just a dream ? Or did I somehow just know
That St Carpolas helped me to land that great fish
And in doing so granted me my Christmas wish.
So you just never know… but I truly believe
That St Carpolas fished with me that Christmas Eve.
