Monday, December 24, 2012

USCARPPRO's 'The Carp Before Christmas

The Carp Before Christmas

Twas the evening of Christmas at the lake in the park.
Not a creature was stirring, not a buff or a carp.
The rods on their rod pods, arranged with great care,
In hope that the feeding spell soon would be there...

The anglers were nestled all snug in camp beds,
While visions of specimens danced in their heads.
Dressed up in thermals and camouflage caps,
They settled in bivvies for long winter naps.

When out in the lake there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bedchair to see what was the matter.
Stuck in my hooligan bivvy (by Nash),
I tore open zippers and was out in a flash.

The light from the Delkims on new-fallen snow
Gave a luster of mid-day to objects below.
When what to my bleary red eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively they scarpered,
I knew in a moment it was Santa the Carper.
More rapid than grass carp his reindeer came,
And he whistled and shouted, and called them by name.

“Now Korda! Now Delkim! Now Matrix and Aqua!
On, Wychwood! On, Solar! On, Mainline! On, Trakker!
Up to the dam! To the top of the wall!
To the spot I pre-baited with packed method balls.”

He was dressed all in camo, from his head to his foot,
And his waders were speckled with ground tigernuts.
A mountain of tackle he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a tackle tart who’d been given the sack.

“Oi, Santa!” I shouted at the top of my voice.
“Keep down that racket and shut up that noise.
We’re trying to fish here. We’ve been here all day,
And with all the commotion you’ll scare ‘em away.”

As soon as I shouted he spun right around,
He looked so surprised at the angler he’d found.
But a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

“Aye-up. Have yer ‘ad owt?” I heard Santa ask.
I stammered and mumbled but words did I lack,
So I just shook my head and looked to the ground,
And Santa looked back at me. And then he just frowned.

He spoke not a word but went straight to his sleigh
Tossing tackle and bait buckets every which way,
And he stood behind Mainline who gave a great start
As Santa’s great hand disappeared up his arse hind parts.

Despite neighs and a whinny, Santa fumbled around,
And then walked back towards me to show what he’d found.
In his palm lay a marble, all glistening and oily,
And he chuckled as he said, “It’s a reindeer boilie.”

“Put this on your hair rig, and you’ll soon have a bite.”
And with a “Ho! Ho! Ho!” he flew into the night.
I rigged up the boilie and cast into the lake
And crawled back in the bivvy and hoped for a take.

Snuggled up on my bedchair, half asleep, half awake.
Did I really just meet Santa down at the lake?
Just a few moments later I was woken from my dreaming
By the sound of a splash and my bite alarm screaming.

I flew from the bivvy as the baitrunner rattled,
And picked up my rod and started to battle.
The fish tore away in its desperate flight
And we fought and we struggled through half of the night.

The fishing line strained and sang in the breeze,
But I held on for dear life, knocking my knees.
But as dawn crept up slowly in the sky to the east,
I could tell at long last I had conquered the beast.

Eyes wide with amazement, I landed the fish.
Santa had granted me a late Christmas wish.
I couldn’t believe what had slipped in my net.
A fully scaled mirror, a forty I’d bet.

With trembling hands, I unhooked this scaled beauty,
Taking great care; the carp angler’s duty.
Washed down and weighed, and well photographed,
(The pictures as proof of my angling craft!)

Revived and released, the fish swam away.
Christmas Night had become Boxing Day.
I looked at my hook and with a terrible fright,
The reindeer boilie had been lost in the fight.

But with great satisfaction at my new personal best,
I crawled back to the bivvy for a much needed rest,
And I heard Santa’s voice as I turned off the light,
“Happy Carping to all, and to all a good-night!”


1 comment:

  1. Thanks to the folks at USCARPPRO I completely understood that wonderful poem! That even sounded like fellows that are there. Thanks, not fly fishing but they do it in a complicated but gentle fashion.