"Twas the Night before Winterstorm" - Whitewater Kayak Version

Twas the night before winterstorm, when all thro' the watershed,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a biped.

The booties were hung in the rafters with care,
In hopes that a rainfall soon would be there.

The skirts were nestled all snug in their bins,
While posts were made of splats’n spins.

A paddler with pet, and a drink on tap,
Had just settled to plan their spring melt-chasing map.

When out on the river there arose such a clatter,
They sprang in the van to see what’s the matter.

Away to the window they flew like a flash,
T’weren’t no shutters, and stuck was the sash.

The moon on the crest of the rain swollen river,
Gave reminder that in cold water we shiver.

When, what to the wondering eyes should appear,
But a whitewater kayaker donning immersion gear.

With a happy paddler, so lively and quick,
They knew in a moment it mustn’t be a trick.

More rapids to ply, the friends they came,
And some whistled, and shouted, and call'd them by name.

Now Dagger, now Dancer, now Pyranha, and Prijon,
On Torrent, on Remix, on Rewind and Antix.

To the top of the eddy! To the big bow stall!
Now paddle away! Paddle away! Paddle away all!

As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, boof to the sky.

So up to the rock-top the paddlers they flew,
With lungs full of noise - and hoots ‘n hollers too.

And then in a twinkling, their AW app did ping,
Announcing and notifying each river crest-ing.

As they drew on their pogies, and stomped all around,
Down the chute, their seal launch was found.

They dress'd all in Gore, from the head to the toes,
And the clothes were synthetic right up to the nose.

A bundle of ‘biners were in a dry sack,
And they look'd like the real paddler, and not some hack.

Their eyes - how they twinkled! Their dimples how merry,
Their cheeks were like roses, each nose like a cherry.

Their water splashed mouths were frosted with snow,
And the faces of winter paddlers had such a glow.

The stump of a grabloop and the knife frozen in sheath,
And ice crusted helmet encircled the head like a wreath.

They had frosty faces, and a whole lot of joy,
That showed when they laugh'd of Winter A’hoy.

They were bundled and frump, like that jolly old elf,
And you’d laugh when you saw them in spite of yourself.

A wink of the eyes and a twist of the torso,
Soon gives you to know we had nothing more, so.

They spoke not a word, but went ahead through the water,
And surf'd all the waves; then roll'd as an otter.

And finally laying the boats on their edge,
And giving a nod, t’was the final party surf on a ledge.

They sprung to their cars, to turn on the heaters,
And away they all flew, the cold downtrodden beaters.

But we heard them exclaim, ere they drove out of sight
Happy Paddling to all, and to all a good night.

This version adapted by Brad Walker