The Night Before Christmas

[Schooner69]

‘TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS


‘Twas the night before Christmas and the airport was still
The clubhouse was dark as a pepperpot mill
The wheel chocks were placed on their spots with great care
For the “rouge pilote de chasse” soon would be there

All the aircraft were parked; each in their stall
Some in their hangars; some on the mall
All had been cleaned and polished real bright
Knowing that something special would happen tonight

Story tellers and bull-tossers were snug in their beds
While visions of glass cockpits danced in their heads
And I had just awakened wide-eyed from a nap
Determined to have just one more night cap

Suddenly there was much clamour and clanger
Coming from the roof of my tin-clad T-hangar
Scared me so bad, to the door I did dash
Tripped on me tow bar and fell on my ash

Of the fire I had started a few hours before
On the concrete in front of my frost-heave-jammed door
“Expletive deleted” and checking my hide
I slowly got up and hobbled outside

The moon through the very thin covering of cloud
Did scarcely give light enough that allowed
My rheumy old wondering eyes to behold
A beat-up old Cessna and a man looking cold

I dimly perceived that his craft had no wings
No antennae, tail feathers, ailerons, or things
That would permit one control or semblance of flight
But, maybe ‘twas just the dark of the night

“Come into the hangar, come into the heat
Something to drink? Scotch whiskey, neat?
A cookie, some cake, a sandwich or two?
Just name it, cold buddy, I’ll get it for you”

“No, no” he exclaimed, “That’s not necessary
I won’t be here long; I really can’t tary
I’m long overdue and behind ETA
Just a technical stop and I’m on my way

We’ve been doing this run for many a year
Every season, it seems, we must carry more gear
And management says “You can do more with less
But they aren’t the ones to clean up the mess

My ponies are ancient, my chariot’s shot
All held together with pills and what not
We never used to halt and smell any flowers
Now there’s a pit stop every two hours!”

Giving himself a heave from his chair
He finished MY drink and sampled the air
“The boys are finished their toilet, I think
Gotta update the flight plan; you on datalink?”

I turned to recharge my glass one more time
A shot of Jack Daniels (two slices of lime)
When I turned back, my friend was not there
He’d seemingly vanished into the night air

But then I heard rustles atop my tin roof
A footstep, a snort, and maybe a hoof
Some jingling, some jangling, some milling about
And then I heard someone give a big shout.

“Now, Wheezer, Now, Geezer
Now, Snuffy and Duffy!
On, Cassie! On, Gassy!
On, Olde Pharte and Muffy!
From the top of the roof to the Village Green Mall
Giv’er, Boys; Giv’er! For God’s sake, don’t stall!

The ponies leaned into their harness with murmurs
Bunched shoulder muscles and went afterburners
The Cessna exploded off the roof in a jiff
Trailing behind gas (just a slight whiff)

I stood there enthralled, not sure what I’d seen
Had happened for real or had it all been
Contrived of the night; a marvelous spoof
Fueled by Jack Daniels, One Hundred Proof?

I awoke in the morning; alone in my bed
Mouth all furry and sore in the head
Convinced ‘twas best to be mum for a spell
In case all was from “Knowing Jack Daniels too well”

I wanted to stay all alone in the house
With no one the wiser, not even the mouse
But curiosity pulled me, like a moth in the night
To the airport I ambled, once the day had some light

I went to the hangar and walked all around
Stomped on the roof and stomped on the ground
Stepped in something, I could tell with my snoot
That the proof of my story's all over my boot.

(With abject apologies to Clement Moore...)