Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the camp
Not a campfire was burning, not even a lamp.
The bear bags were hung from tall trees with care,
In hopes that no critters would ever be there.
The Boy Scouts were nestled all snug in their bags,
While dreaming of fishing, without any snags.
The leaders in tents, with warm winter caps,
Had just settled their brains for long winter’s naps.
When out in the woods there arose such a clatter,
I crawled from my mummy bag to see what’s the matter.
Away to the tent door, although it was cool,
Tore open the zipper and opened the vestibule.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day as though all aglow.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a great big backpack and a man full of cheer.
That man with the hat, who was out and about,
I knew in a moment it was an Old Scout.
Dressed like Badel Powell, I was frozen in awe,
And he whistled, and shouted, and sang the Scout Law!
All trustworthy, loyal, helpful, and clean,
And obedient, cheerful, friendly and kind.
Courteous, thrifty, reverent and brave,
And catching my eye, he gave me a wave!
As a boat on the ocean, coming in with full sails,
Or deer to the woods, prancing on trails.
In through the forest, the singing was true,
With endless cheer, he would visit us, too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard by the fire ring
The same cheerful spirit, who continued to sing.
As I looked round the camp, and was turning around,
Old Scout was right there, he came with a bound.
He was dressed in synthetics, from his head to his toe,
With broken in boots and no blisters to show.
Well fitting gear was strapped on his back,
And he looked like a hiker, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The twig of a birch tree he held tight in his teeth,
And the hat on his head, looked like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a jolly old belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was smiling and happy, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
To do his good turn, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
Off to the next scout, where he only knows!
Donning his gear and with a merry whistle,
Away he hiked on, right through the thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he hiked out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”
This is my Boy Scout spin on Twas The Night Before Christmas.