‘Twas the night before Christmas, when here by the sea,
Not a creature was stirring, not even an anemone.
Our flip-flops still sat in sandy piles by our doors,
In hopes that the cold weather would soon be no more.
The tan-legged little children were nestled snug in their beds,
While visions of Rita’s root beer floats danced in their heads.
And Mama Flo in her apron, and Mayor Goodwin in his bowtie,
Had each headed home as darkness drew nigh.
When out on Center Street there arose such a chatter,
So I gave a quick holler and watched the last-callers scatter.
But before I could return to the comfort of bed,
I glanced toward The Crab Shack and saw something red.
The moon bounced off beach floats at Mr. John’s,
Casting a glow on the sidewalk as though it was dawn.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a sea-shell-covered sleigh, and eight salty reindeer.
With a jolly old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More speedy than sailfish his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
“Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of McKevlin’s porch! To the top of the Tides’ wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
As fluffy spumes of sea foam on breaking waves lie,
But when catch a strong wind are carried into the sky,
So up to Snapper Jack’s rooftop the reindeer, they flew,
With the sleigh full of beach toys, and St. Nicholas too.
He was dressed all in a wetsuit, from his head to his feet,
And had a coupon for oysters — all-you-can-eat!
A bundle of crab traps he had flung on his back,
And a growler from Bert’s sloshed in his napsack.
His eyes sparkled like a gnarly swell in the sun,
His nose as red as though he’d done the Polar Plunge run!
A sunglass tan-line stretched across his face in a band,
And the beard of his chin was the color of sand.
Looped on his belt hung a shucker in a sheath,
And encircling his neck was a string of shark teeth.
He had chubby cheeks and a big round tummy,
That shook when he laughed, ’cause Folly’s food is so yummy!
He spoke not a word but got a quick start,
Leaving gifts for all who hold Folly deep in their heart.
And that’s not all he brought to the isle,
He also bid us a year abundant with seafood and smiles.
He then sprang to his sleigh, to his beach-deer gave a pet,
And away they all flew toward the lighthouse inlet.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Folly Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”
We give a nod to the original writer, Major Henry Livingston, Jr.
