Twas the Race Before Christmas

Twas the race before Christmas, when on Cadboro bay.

The Mini 12 fleet was racing on a blustery day.

The jibs were out flying and the main sheet pulled tight.

The sailors all focused on winning, as was their right.

The Deceptions went first and Andrew he led,

While visions of a pewter mug danced around in his head.

And Illusions were next, my start had been crap.

At the back of the fleet, bad air was my trap.

When out on port there arose such profanity,

I pulled my head up to see who’s losing their sanity.

Do you know port from starboard, he yelled as he past,

Arghh, it’s Don Thain, if he’s ahead you know you’re dead last.

This can’t be I yelled watching the fleet fade,

There must be a god that will take my soul in trade

While wondering who’d want it, with all of my sins

Up popped an old man on the back of two dolphins

Green and slimy, he looked a bit like a goon

But from the crown on his head I knew he was King Neptune.

“Your souls on the plate” he said with a frown,

“For that meager fee I’ll slow the fleet down.”

Then below the ocean his head disappeared,

And soon I noticed, the wind it had veered,

My boat speed picked up, was my skill kicking in?

I suspect it was more that trailing dolphin’s fin.

Now Don, now Rob, now Margret I raced,

Their frustration maxed out when they couldn’t keep the pace.

On Barbara, on Neil, on Tony to port,

What the hell is this, I heard John Tibbles snort.

As a hot knife in butter through the fleet I did slice,

The look in Mark‘s eye was worth any price.

Up to the windward mark I did fly,

But I saw that Dave Gair would not let me by

Then up in the water there was such a commotion,

That my competitor’s boat stopped all forward motion.

And then in a twinkling I was up in the lead

Closing on the Deceptions at incredible speed.

Now Gordon, now Geoff now Lyle I past

On Gerry, on Roger and behind Andrew at last,

He tacked to starboard, I tacked to port

When I pulled up abeam him, I heard him retort

“We’re not in the same division, it doesn’t matter”

But I knew if I won he’d be mad as a hatter

At the finish line it seemed too close to call

But it was my number they yelled, I had gone by them all.

Then right up in front, he appeared in his crown

I see you’ve arrived, why don’t you come down,

To Davy Jones Locker it’s your home to be

It’s cold and it’s dark, at the bottom of the sea.

But then he laughed and winked, as I writhed in my dread

And I hit with a thump when I fell out of my bed.

I awoke with a smile and a card by my face

“Congratulations” it said, “that was a hell of a race”.

But there was a postscript on the card’s other side

“Only in your dreams”, signed Andrew McBride

Looking out in the moonlight down at the sea

I saw that creepy green man, as alive as can be.

As we walked on the water, he yelled, “it don’t matter

Red, blue or green, whether we are thinner or fatter

You all need a Santa, to keep your dreams in flight

So Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night”