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"Briland sweet, eh?"
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|Page 1 of 1||Total of 2 messages|
|Posted by:||Dec 15th 2003, 01:33:23 pm|
|smitty||A great piece of work.Nice going folks and a very Happy Holiday season to you.Ken|
|Posted by:||Dec 12th 2003, 06:15:16 pm|
|Fig Tree News Team||
'Twas a Briland Goombay and all down the beach,
Pink sand stretched as far as it could reach.
The flippers were hung on the balcony with care,
In the hopes that Santa/Yahweh/Jah soon would drift there.
The locals were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of guava duff danced in their heads.
Bahama Mama in her pareo and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long tropical nap.
When out in the night there rose such a clatter,
I sprang from my hammock to see what was the matter.
Away to the screen door I flew like a flash,
Tore open the curtains and let out a gasp.
The moon on the water, how it did glow,
Giving a luster of midday to the palm trees below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sailboat ever so near.
With a little old captain so lively and quick,
I thought for a moment, "Could it be St. Nick?"
More rapid than the waves, the dolphins they came
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
"Now Flipper, now Moby, now Sebastian and Willy,
On Flounder, on Orca, on Jaws and Charlie --
From the edge of the reef to our port of call,
Now swim away, swim away, swim away all!"
And then in a twinkling I heard on the beach,
The chirping and chattering and splashing of each.
As I redrew the curtains and was turning around,
Through the front door St. Nicholas came with a bound.
Dressed in his trunks with a Kalik in his hand,
His feet were all covered with snow-like pink sand.
A bundle of lobsters he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a tourist just opening his pack.
His eyes - how they twinkle, his dimples how merry,
His cheeks were sunburned, his nose like a cherry.
His droll little mouth cracked a big smile,
The goatee on his chin, showed he could be kinda wild.
The snorkel he held tight in his teeth,
The mask it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a red face and a sunburned belly,
That shook when he laughed like a bowl of coconut jelly.
With trunks and a rum punch, a strange old elf,
[I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself]
A flash of the peace sign and a nod of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the flippers, then turned with a jerk.
Now laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, out the door he goes.
He sprang to his yacht, to his team gave a call,
And away they swam past the Narrows and all.
But I heard him exclaim as he traveled out of sight,
"The holidays in Briland … that's doin' it right!"
With heartfelt thanks to the authors of the original version we’ve since personalized to suit the Harbour Island and Eleuthera region] written by Nick Campbell, Debby Midwood and Texas Bob at e-mail Midwood@gte.net
us online at