Twas the Night Before Christmas

As a Christmas present to all of ye, I've decided to put up a modified (by me) version of the Moore/Livingston poem that has endured for generations. I hope ye and all of your families (should you want to share it with your children, etc.) enjoy it.

Twas the Night Before Christmas (In the Caribbean, on board the Flying Dutchman, as told by Davy Jones)

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the ship,
Not a pirate was stirring, they'd all drank a sip.

The stockings were hung by the bulkhead with pleasure,
In hopes that St. Nick would soon fill em' with treasure.

The prisoners were holed up, all locked in the brig,
Haunted by visions of the Kraken, ferocious and big.

And I at the organ, playing softly and low,
Had just started dreaming of dear Calypso.

When out on the deck there arose a commotion,
I rose from my bench and looked out at the ocean.

Away from the cabin, I trudged up the ramps,
Out onto the poop-deck and lit all the lamps.

The moon on the crest of the new-breaking swells,
Gave the lustre of midnight to all vessels' bells.

When what did the view in my spyglass unfurl?
But St. Nick, reindeer, and sleigh, aboard the Black Pearl.

With a sailor so lively, clever, and narrow,
I knew in an instant it must be Capt. Jack Sparrow.

More driven than sea turtles, his crew they all came,
And he bellowed and shouted, and called them by name.

"Now Pintel! Now Ragetti! Now Cotton and Marty!
On William, On Elizabeth, Mr. Gibbs, and Barbosa, me heartie!

To the top of the crow's nest, to the top of the mast,
Hoist the colours, full canvas, raise anchor, and fast!"

As dead trees that before winter rot,
When ye go into battle, fire the first shot.

So into the maelstrom, Barbosa at the helm, were they steered,
Went the Pearl with St. Nick, the man with the beard.

And then in a thunder, I heard from the prowl,
The roar of cannon fire across the port bow.

As I called out my orders and changed the ship's course,
Over the rigging came St. Nick with a full pirate force.

He was dressed all in tatters, from his head to his boot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with gunpowder and soot.

A chest full of treasure he hauled on his back,
And he looked like a buccaneer, rummaging through his sack.

His eyes how they shifted. His gaze quick and glancing,
His balance like a monkey, as he swayed more like dancing.

His big wide mouth drawn up like a knot,
But it didn't prevent him from talking a lot.

While the stump of my pipe I held tight in my teeth,
As the smoke, it encircled those tentacles beneath.

As he took a wide stance and reached for his sword,
He found his sheath empty, he'd lost it on board.

As I drew my sword, still, he didn't go,
I asked "Do You Fear Death?" and his answer was "No".

For he pulled out a key and unlocked a chest,
Leaving gold pieces of treasure for all of the rest.

And turning to me he said with a start,
"I've a present for you, Davy!" And he tossed out my still-beating heart.

He sprang to a rope and swung back to his ship,
As the rest of his crew soon joined in the trip.

But I heard him exclaim as they sailed out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to All, Yo-Ho-Ho and Goodnight!"

The End.

Capt. Jones