‘Twas the night before Christmas
And out on the rock

Not a keeper was stirring
And the doors were not locked

The stockings were hung by the kemac with care
In the hopes that the chopper soon would be there

The keepers were settled, by the TV
As was usual each day, right around three

And Rodger in his grey suit and me in my cap
Had just settled in (in our respective chairs) for a long winter's nap

When out on the deck there arose such a noise
I figgered the chopper, with a bunch of the boys

Away to the window I flew like a flash

Tore open the curtains and kicked out the glass

The spray in the air from a big rolling sea
Left a briny old slime that soon covered me

When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a red helicopter with a hold full of cheer

With a little old pilot so nasty and lean
I knew in a moment it was Jack Jardine

More rabid than foxes his curses they came
He spluttered and muttered as I did the same

Now damn it, now darn it, now get out of town
Gosh Dang it, Gol'Ding it, you wipe off that frown

To the top of the tower, to the top of the light
He flew in a rage, and gave me a fright

So up to the lantern the keepers we followed
While the old man he fussed and he spit and he hollered

And then in a twinkling I heard on the shingles
A curious sound, so funny, like jingles

As I put my head over the lantern deck rail
Straight for the chimney went Jardine with our mail

He was dressed all in sealskins from his head to his foot
And his clothes were all oily and covered with soot

A bundle of letters he had slung on his back
And he looked very silly with those flippers on back

His eyes how they twinkled, his coat how it shone
His cheeks were like cods' tongues and his teeth they were gone

His droll little frown was an upside down bow
And the froth from his lips it did fall like the snow

The butt of a smoke he held tight in his teeth
And the fumes they encircled his head like a wreath

He had a stern face and a round little belly
That shook when he growled like a bowl full of jelly

A tick in his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me know I had plenty to dread

He spoke not a word, excepting a curse
And filled our old chimney with mail from his purse

And laying his finger in a special salute
He gave a small nod which looked kind of cute

He sprang to the chopper, to the boys gave a call
And told us he would not return until fall

But I heard him exclaim as he flew out of sight
"You're crazy on Gannet, but have a good night!"

Chris Mills
Gannet Rock Lightstation, NB
December 18-22, 1992

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