T'was The Night Before ...

T'was the night before Leap Year, and down at Earl’s Shack
The Wranglers were restless, the Night Fish Crew hadn’t come back

The tarpits were stacked in the corner with care
In hope that ol’ Joan would not find them there

The newbies were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of strange fishies danced in their heads.

And Gillian in her ‘kerchief, and Joe in his FW cap,
Had just settled their brains for a long weekend nap.

When out on the ocean there arose such a clatter,
Joe sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the porthole Joe flew like a newbie,
Tore open the shutters and got covered in cubies!

The moon on the bow of the dinghies below
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.

When, what to his wondering eyes should appear,
But a mini-cruiser, carrying yet more tarpit beer.

With a little old driver, in a lava suit so brief,
He knew in a moment he’d come from the Reef.

More crazy then Schizos his Night Crew they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Terri! now, Joyce! now, Daryl and Alvin!
On, Len! On, Lee! on, Dave and on Kristen!
To the top of the poop deck! to the top of the trawl!
So FISH NOW, so FISH NOW! There’s a new Level for all!"

As wet as the seaweed that before the wild hurricane soared,
When they meet with an obstacle they leap to the Board.
So off to the Discussion Board the Wranglers they flew,
With a cruiser of popcorn, and the Earl Monster too.

And then, in a twinkling, Joe heard out the back
The whingers and moaners had entered the Shack
As Joe drew in his head, and was turning around,
In through the door came the Crew with a bound.

Their jubblies where covered with fur from head to the foot,
And the others all carried the rubies and loot.
A bundle of RLC they had stacked in the shack,
And Daryl the Giver, was opening his sack.

Now their eyes-how they twinkled! and dimples how merry!
Their cheeks were like roses, and their noses coloured cherry!
Now some of their mouths were drawn up like a bow,
Whilst some they had beards and some hair of snow.

Now some clenched their Resources all tight in their teeth,
While smoke from the Hippie fish circled their heads like a wreath.
Now you couldn’t see the face of the one who’d a little round tum,
But it shook when he laughed, like a bowl of hot chilli chum!

They weren’t chubby or plump, more like Suave fish,
And Joe laughed when he saw them, they had style, they were swish!
A wink of Len’s eye and a twist of his head,
Soon let Joe know he had nothing to dread.

They speak not a word, but get on with the task,
If you’re new and have questions, you’ve only to ask.
When laying down their thoughts or compiling some prose,
Most of us they please, the others? Who knows!

They spring to their keyboards, and give Joe a whistle,
And away they all go at the speed of a missle.
But Joe oft hears them exclaim, ‘ere they speed into the night,
"Happy Fishing to all, and to all a good-bite!"

--
Mandi Richardson (Australia)