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Re: [Hammock Camping] more poetry?

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  • Ralph Oborn
    ... Found it. Ralph
    Message 1 of 2 , Nov 25, 2005
      > > Isn't it about the time of year for some winter seasonal hammock poetry?
      > > Anybody got any ideas for "twas the night before....?
      >
      > Didn't I just do that one a few months ago?
      >
      > Shane

      Found it. Ralph



      --- In hammockcamping@yahoogroups.com, "Shane Steinkamp" <shane@t...>
      wrote:
      >
      > T'was the night before summit, and all on the ground,
      > Not a hiker was sleeping; no campsite was found.
      > The walkers were vexed by ground so unstable
      > No flat spot was found the size of a table.
      >
      > The campers tried nestling on top of their packs,
      > but the lumps and the bumps were twisting their backs.
      > Try though they might, no rest could they find,
      > And one did exclaim, "My poor aching behind!"
      >
      > When out from the trail there arose such a clatter,
      > They sprang from their bags to check out the matter.
      > Downward they looked with their aches and their pains
      > From their long sleepless evening they felt quite insane
      >
      > The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
      > Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
      > When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
      > But a fantastic sleigh, and eight ginormous reindeer,
      >
      > With a little old driver, with huge hiker gams,
      > I knew in a moment it must be St. Ham.
      > More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
      > And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
      >
      > "Now, Speer! now, Hennessy! now Bana and Byer!
      > On, Bliss! on Jungle!, on Amazonas! and Lyer!
      > To the top of the hill now! to the top of the wall!
      > Now stop yo'self! stop yo'self! stop yo'self all!"
      >
      > As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
      > When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
      > So up to the switchback the coursers they flew,
      > With the sleigh full of hammocks, and St. Ham too.
      >
      > And then, in a twinkling, he tossed out a sack,
      > then another, and another, and they all just stared back.
      > As my bag slipped away, and fell to the ground,
      > St. Ham jumped from the sleigh with one mighty bound.
      >
      > He was dressed all in Gore-Tex, from his head to his foot,
      > And he looked quite refreshed with his well-rested look.
      > A bag full of tarps he had flung on his back,
      > And he looked like a thru-hiker 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 stump of a Slim-Jim he held tight in his teeth,
      > And hiker stench encircled his head like a wreath.
      > He had a broad face and hands that were strong,
      > And as he strung hammocks, he sung a fine song.
      >
      > "Woe to you groundling, with the rocks and the roots
      > Without enough enough sense to take off your boots!
      > Watch this now and closely, I'll just show you twice;
      > Once you can do this, you'll escape snakes and mice!"
      >
      > He tied up the beds, and lined them with care
      > With pads and thick bags and a pillow to spare
      > A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
      > Soon gave me to know I would sleep like the dead.
      >
      > He spoke not a word, but kept straight to his work,
      > He tied all the knots; which he cinched with a jerk,
      > He drove in some stakes, and strung up a tarp,
      > then pulled them all tightly in the quickening dark.
      >
      > He sprang to his sleigh, to his teams gave a whistle,
      > And downward they slid off the hill like a missle.
      > But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
      > "Happy Hammocking to all, and to all a good-night!"
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