Friday, December 24, 2010

The Night Before Christmas ~ In Paraguay ~ Written by BOB BOSTON

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the barrio
Not a person was calm, not even old Mario.
The stockings were hung by the kitchen with care,
In hopes that Papa Noel soon would be there.

The children were running around through the house,
Fireworks exploding, scaring even the mouse.
And Doña in her tank top, and I in my cap ,
Gave up on the idea of a long summers nap

When out on the cobblestone, there arose with a clatter,
I sprang from the hammock to see whats the matter.
Away to my rejas I flew like a flash,
With my windows open, smelly gunpowder made me gasp

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen dust
Gave the luster of grey to the objects at dusk.
When, what to my watering eyes should appear,
Through the dust, the gun smoke, and the sparklers veneer.
But a miniature sleigh, and eight exhausted reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than car window washers they came,
He whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

As fireworks lit with a candle they fly
when they met an obstacle, go to the sky.
So up to the flat top houses they flew,
the sleigh with few toys, as everyone knew

Cracking the tiles, I heard on my roof
the landing of rockets, and thrown sparklers too.
As I ducked flying objects, and was turning around,
down the kitchen extractor came St. Nick with a bound.

His eyes-how they twinkled! His nose red like a beet!
Fireworks and explosions, he´d braved to my street.
His droll little mouth was smiling at me,
At midnight, with a heat of one hundred and three.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a shout,
Having used up the fireworks, it was safe to go out.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight.
“Feliz Navidad, and to all a good night”


1 comment: