The Night Before Fishmas

‘Twas the night before Fishmas, and all through the camp,
we had grouper for dinner, myself I had scamp.
The waders were hung, by the fireplace with care,
in hopes that the fishmeister would visit us there.

The fishermen were lying around on the couch,
a crescendo of snoring raised the roof of the house.
The cook in his apron and me in mine too,
were wondering what else there was for us to do.

Suddenly out on the dock, there arouse such a commotion,
we wondered if we might be swallowed up by the ocean.
Away to the back porch we ran way too quick,
tripped over the doorsill and slipped—it was slick.

The full moon was shining on the tee of the pier,
and allowed us to see what was standing right there.
We both rubbed our eyes to be sure they weren’t lying,
it was a big decked out flats boat, and dolphin that were flying.

With a pot-bellied old captain, but lively and quick,
he laughed as he said to call him Captain Nick.
Far quicker than wahoo, his dolphin they came,
and amazingly, without cursing, he called them by name.

Now Hank! Now Roland!
Now come on and listen!
On Jose! On Jimmy!
The bluefish are blitzin’!

To the mouth of the inlet,
at the edge of the bar!
Let’s get going quickly,
it isn’t too far.

As shingles and siding, before the hurricanes fly,
the dolphins they jumped and took to the sky.
Up on the shack’s roof they landed like mack’rel,
with the boat full of fly rods, spinners, and tackle.

Amazingly enough, I heard on the roof,
the scuffling of flippers and fins sure enough.
While scratching my head, I quickly spun around,
as old Captain Nick came through the door in a bound.

He was all dressed in supplex, including his hat,
his waders still muddy, from wading the flats.
A bundle of rods he carried over his back.
with reels, line, and tackle all stuffed in a sack.

His eyes they were hiding, behind polarized glasses,
his cheeks were all sunburned, from fishing the passes.
His nose was all covered in a zinc oxide white,
and the stubble of beard on his face was just right.

The stump of a cigar he clenched in his teeth,
it hadn’t been lit since he abandoned the reef.
He had a fisherman’s smile and a big round beer belly,
and laughed like he had a Saturday morning show on the telly.

Yes he was chubby to fat, but a jolly old soul,
I knew he’d be good company, at the old fishing hole.
He winked as he spoke, and smiled widely too,
saying here’s some new fishing goodies for you.

He went to his work, going all over the shack,
muttering let’s leave it all, I don’t have time to come back.
After laying the rods all around with great care,
he put his finger to his nose and suddenly just wasn’t there.

He had sprung to his boat, still laden with toys,
and called to the dolphin, away now please boys.
But we all heard him cry out, as he disappeared into the night,
Merry Fishmas to all, and to all a good bite!



By the way, I got this poem out of the (North Carolina sportsman magazine)

Hope you enjoyed it! Who-ever wrote it is apparently a true fisherman just to be able to think up something like that, LOL