Ed. note: David, Kathryn and Ayla Besemer, owners of Nordhavn 43 Three@Sea, have put a seaworthy spin on the old classic poem by Clement Clarke Moore. We think it’s a perfect way to offer Nordhavn fans everywhere a very Merry Christmas.
Twas the night before Christmas
aboard Three@Sea.
Not a creature was stirring,
except Piccadilly.
The stockings were hung
on the freezer with care,
in the hopes that St. Nicholas
soon would be there.
The crew was all nestled
snug in their berths,
after watching “Love Actually”,
with Colin Firth.
We’d had a fine dinner,
enjoying some grog,
and were quickly asleep,
like bumps on a log.
When out on the ocean
there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bunk to see
what was the matter.
Away to the porthole
I flew like a flash,
tripped on our kitty,
and fell with a crash.
The moon on the swells
of a beautiful sea
created a sense
of tranquility.
When what to my unfocused eyes
came to view,
was a noisy, spray-throwing
fleet of Sea-doo’s.
With a red wet-suit driver
so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment
it must be Pirate St. Nick.
More rapid than dolphins
those wave-runners came,
a reindeer on each,
and he called them by name:
“On Nemo on Neptune,
on Poseiden and Smee,
on Blackbeard on Sparrow,
on Columbus and Vespucci!”
“To the base of
the swim platform,
to the tip of the bow
splash away, splash away, splash away now!”
As flying-fish fly
off the top of wave crests,
when encountering bow wakes
soar with the best.
So up to the fly-bridge
the reindeer they flew,
with a boat full of toys,
and St. Nicholas too.
And then in a twinkling
I heard on the boat deck
a crash with our dingy,
which made it a wreck.
As I drew in my head
and was turning around,
down the dry-stack St. Nicholas
came with a bound.
He was dressed in red neoprene
from head to toe,
and his little snorkel
swung to and fro.
A bundle of toys
he had set by his boot,
and he looked like a pirate
inspecting his loot.
His eyes how they twinkled,
his dimples so merry.
His cheeks were sun kissed,
his nose sunburnt like a cherry.
He had a shiny hook
instead of a hand,
and the beard on his chin
was white as Bahamian sand.
The stump of the pipe
he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke, it encircled
his head like a coral reef.
He had a broad face,
and it looked rather jolly,
and on his shoulder
was a parrot named Polly.
He was chubby and plump,
a good seafaring man,
and I am glad we had left him
cookies and Spam.
The patch on his eye
and his tattooed forehead
made me seriously wonder
if I had something to dread?
He spoke only one word
while spreading his joy:
when he spied me watching,
he whispered, “Ahoy!”
He finished his task
as if playing a game,
then disappeared up the stack
as quick as he came.
As he cruised away,
in a sky filled with stars,
we’re reminded of just
how blessed we are.
Although we’re remote
our hearts hold you near.
Merry Christmas with love,
and Happy New Year!
