'Twas The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas when all down the beach
the girls in bikinis were just out of reach.
The surfboards were waxed by the seaside with care
and sunglasses worn, because of the glare.
The children were coated with sunscreen and sand,
But without the chimneys where would Santa land?
Momma in her sarong and I wearing trunks,
had a few margaritas and soon would be drunks!
When out in the waves there arose such a splash
I sprang from my beach chair and the umbrella went crash!
Away to the cooler I ran, fast as light
pulled out a bottle and prepared for a fight.
The glow on the label of a frosty drink
and the sunset beginning, the sky turning pink.
When what to my squinting eyes did afloat
but eight surfing reindeer and Santa's red boat.
With a jolly old Captain, burnt to a crisp
I knew in a moment, the North Pole was missed.
Faster than tuna, escaping the hook,
the waves broke upon it, and the boat shook.
Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen,
On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the wave, to the top of the sea,
Now surf away, surf away, let not one wave be!!
As big, big waves that before a hurricane swell,
when we meet with the breakers we fly up as well.
So up past the sea spray they flew,
with a boat full of presents and St. Nicholas too.
And then in a moment I heard in a tree,
rustling and shaking, and then shouts of glee.
As I drew in a breath and began to look up,
down a palm tree slid Santa with a coconut.
He wore a red suit and it covered him not,
but of the sand, there was quite a lot.
A sack of toys was flung over his back,
and as for climbing, he sure had the knack.
His eyes how they sparkled, his dimples how merry,
his cheeks were sun rosey, his nose a burnt cherry.
He hid his mouth behind his hand,
and his beard and his hair were as white as the sand.
The stump of pipe that he held in his teeth,
looked just like it was made out of a coral reef.
He had a broad face and a pale belly,
that shook when he laughed like coconut jelly.
He was chubby and red, a right jolly old man
And I laughed at him there, would he ever get tan?
A wink of his eye and a tap to the tree,
so let me to know, there was no where to flee.
He spoke not a word but went straight to his job,
he overflowed the flip flops, then turned with a sob.
And laying a finger aside his burnt nose,
and giving a nod, up the palm tree he rose.
He sprang to his boat, to his team he did call,
and away they flew, surfboards and all.
But I heard him exclaim, as he flew out of reach
"Merry Christmas to all and to all a nice beach!"