Cajun Night Before Christmas...

[ChristopherCoy]

Cajun Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas an' all t'ru de house,
Dey don't a ting pass Not even a mouse.
De chirren been nezzle good snug on de flo',
An' Mama pass de pepper t'ru de crack on de do'

De Mama in de fireplace done roas' up de ham,
Sit up de gumbo an' make de bake yam.
Den out on de by-you dey got such a clatter,
Make soun' like old Boudreau done fall off his ladder.

I run like a rabbit to got to de do',
Trip over de dorg an' fall on de flo'.
As I look out de do'in de light o' de moon,
I t'ink, "Mahn, you crazy or got ol' too soon."

Cux 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 an' 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 an'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 ole houn' dorg come a run hisse's 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 wit' 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 de cat
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 de blackberry.

His cheek was like a rose his nose 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 stromberry jelly!

But a wink in his eye an' a shook o' his head,
Make my confi-dence dat I don't got to be scared.
He don' do no talkin' gone strit to hi work,
Put a 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'!"

Author: J. B. Kling, Jr., 1973

[Cajungaltx]

*lol*

This is Sarah's favorite book for Tori to read for her.

I also have Le Petit Rouge Riding Hood.

And boy does it bring out the accent in me for a day or so when I read it... ;-)

[Jusselin]

haha i love being cajun

[Truckman]

Technogeek Night Before Christmas...

'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual Yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as Mus musculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas.

The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof.

Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself - thus permitting my incredulous optical sensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a minuscule, aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With his ungulate motive power travelling at what may possibly have been more vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen - "Now Dasher, now Dancer..." et al. - guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities.

As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved - with utmost celerity and via a downward leap - entry by way of the smoke passage. He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebony residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle.

His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the former approximating the coloration of Albion's floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water.

Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking piece whose grey fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container. He was, in short, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly to one side, he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless.

Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned appended hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt about-face, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility: "Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary constituency, and to that self same assemblage, my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn."

[Cajungaltx]

My current favorite:

Soldiers Night before Christmas:

Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster & stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give
And to see just who in this home did live.

I looked all about a strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.

With medals and badges, awards of all kind
A sober thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, so dark and dreary,
I knew I had found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.

I heard stories about them, I had to see more
So I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.
And there he lay sleeping silent alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one bedroom home.

His face so gentle, his room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured a United States soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I'd just read?
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?

His head was clean shaven, his weathered face tan,
I soon understood this was more than a man.
For I realized the families that I saw that night
Owed their lives to these men who were willing to fight.

Soon `round the world, the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
Because of soldiers like this one lying here.

I couldn´t help wonder how many lay alone
On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.

The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa don´t cry, this life is my choice;
I fight for freedom, I don´t ask for more,
my life is my God, my country, my Corps."

With that he rolled over and drifted off into sleep,
I couldn´t control it, I continued to weep.
I watched him for hours, so silent and still,
I noticed he shivered from the cold night´s chill.

So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
And I covered this Soldier from his toes to his head.
And I put on his T-shirt of gray and black,
With an eagle and an Army patch embroidered on back.

And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,
And for a shining moment, I was United States Army deep inside.
I didn´t want to leave him on that cold dark night,
This guardian of honor so willing to fight.

Then the soldier rolled over, whispered with a voice so clean and pure,
"Carry on Santa, it's Christmas Day, all is secure."
One look at my watch, and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night!

[ChristopherCoy]

Originally Posted by Jusselin

haha i love being cajun

Well I know your last name so I'll give you that one....

[TRWhite]

A Sailor's Night Before Christmas
Author Unknown

Twas the night before Christmas,
the ship was out steaming,

Sailors stood watch
while others were dreaming.

They lived in a crowd
with racks tight and small,

In a 40-man berthing,
cramped one and all.

I had come down the stack
with presents to give,

And to see inside
just who might perhaps live.

I looked all about,
a strange sight did I see,

No tinsel, no presents,
not even a tree.

No stockings were hung,
shined boots close at hand,

On the bulkhead hung pictures
of a far distant land.

They had medals and badges
and awards of all kind,

And a sober thought
came into my mind.

For this place was different,
so dark and so dreary,

I had found the house of a Sailor,
once I saw clearly.

A Sailor lay sleeping,
silent and alone,

Curled up in a rack
and dreaming of home.

The face was so gentle,
the room squared away,

This was the United States Sailor today.

This was the hero
I saw on TV,

Defending our country
so we could be free.

I realized the families
that I would visit this night,

Owed their lives to these Sailors
lay willing to fight.

Soon round the world,
the children would play,

And grownups would celebrate
on Christmas Day.

They all enjoyed freedom
each day of the year,

Because of the Sailor,
like the one lying here.

I couldn't help wonder
how many lay alone,

On a cold Christmas Eve on a sea,
far from home.

The very thought
brought a tear to my eye,

I dropped to my knees
and started to cry.

The Sailor awakened
and I heard a calm voice,

"Santa, don't cry,
this life is my choice."

"Defending the seas
all days of the year,

So others may live
and be free with no fear."

I thought for a moment,
what a difficult road,

To live a life guided
by honor and code.

After all it's Christmas Eve
and the ship's underway!

But freedom isn't free
and it's sailors who pay.

The Sailor say's to our country
"be free and sleep tight,

No harm will come,
not on my watch and not on this night.

The Sailor rolled over
and drifted to sleep,

I couldn't control it,
I continued to weep.

I kept watch for hours,
so silent, so still,

I watched as the Sailor
shivered from the night's cold chill.

I didn't want to leave
on that cold dark night,

This guardian of honor
so willing to fight.

The Sailor rolled over
and with a voice strong and sure,

Commanded, "Carry on Santa,
It's Christmas, and All is Secure!"

Honor, Courage and Commitment

[ChristopherCoy]

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Walmart
Came a stout woman shopping, bending to sh-art.
Her stockings were hung at home on the shower
Was she a brick ****house? nah, more like a tower

She smelled like a turd, but went straight to her work,
I laughed when she bent over, so she called me a jerk.
Soap and shaving cream weren’t high on her list
“Where’s my cigarettes?” she said, shaking her fist

I yelled, “Nair’s in isle 3, along with a razor!”
“And cream for those stretchmarks”, but it did’t phase her
Laying her finger inside her asscrack,
She picked a dingle berry and said, “Hey ass ****er, dont gimmie no crap.”

“I’m out buying lotto, cigarettes and beer
My old man just got out, he was in for a year”
And with self check out she was gone out of sight
Saying, “Merry Christmas to all, And all a good night.”

[Cajungaltx]

Originally Posted by ChristopherCoy

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Walmart
Came a stout woman shopping, bending to sh-art.
Her stockings were hung at home on the shower
Was she a brick ****house? nah, more like a tower

She smelled like a turd, but went straight to her work,
I laughed when she bent over, so she called me a jerk.
Soap and shaving cream weren’t high on her list
“Where’s my cigarettes?” she said, shaking her fist

I yelled, “Nair’s in isle 3, along with a razor!”
“And cream for those stretchmarks”, but it did’t phase her
Laying her finger inside her asscrack,
She picked a dingle berry and said, “Hey ass ****er, dont gimmie no crap.”

“I’m out buying lotto, cigarettes and beer
My old man just got out, he was in for a year”
And with self check out she was gone out of sight
Saying, “Merry Christmas to all, And all a good night.”

roflmbo...that's just WRONG Christopher ....WRONG....

[Peacock]

My wife has that book, her father left it to her...I am not sure what year that book is, but she has great memories of being read that book by her father. And he didn't even have to fake the accent!