Uncle Charlie's Christmas Eve
Before every Christmas, we'd revel in glory,
As great-uncle Charlie, would tell us the story
Of a cold Christmas Eve, back in nineteen n'ten
Out near Johansen's, dear Karin and Sven.
He was ridin' from town after gettin' some things,
To give to my folks, for the joy such fun brings.
A generous man, quite sober and straight,
Bein' happy was why Uncle Charlie was great.
The sun had not set, but was floatin' real low,
Above the horizon of fog and light snow.
The air was dead calm, with nary a sound
'Cept the breath of his horse, as its hooves hit the ground.
He heard in the silence, but sure didn't know
Whether sleigh bells were ringing, or a voice said; "Ho ho."
When stopping his horse in its tracks on the trail,
The sound seemed to come from way down in the vale.
Then all became quiet, as a corpse in a tomb.
After listening awhile, nudged his horse to resume.
Most likely the Frogget boys out on a tear.
But weren't they in Texas, on a roundup down there?
Next he heard sleigh bells from the ridge up ahead,
As an old soundin' voice spoke to someone and said,
"Girls and boys it's hopeless, I'm afraid we're lost!
In this thick winter fog, my directions got crossed."
"We just need to find a good soul who well knows,
Where Johansen's place is, to leave'm these clothes."
Upon hearin' this Uncle Charlie spoke out,
Through the fog he acknowledged, with a half-hearted shout;
"Peace to you friend! I know Karin n' Sven.
You're not too far off, I'll just whistle, and then
Follow the sound over here, to the trail.
I'll give you directions good enough you won't fail."
Charlie puckered his lips and began Silent Night.
A voice through the mist cried, "Circle to the right!"
Charlie had doubts of what to expect,
There was no sound of hooves, which he could detect.
Sleigh bells were ringing as if all around,
And back to his left, 'bout a foot off the ground
Came a team of small reindeer all hitched to a sleigh,
With an old driver guidin'm down Charlie's way.
Charlie's whistle went dry and his eyes got real big,
When seein' how this old man handled that rig.
The team bore in close, at a gallopin' speed,
Then stopped in a wink when those reindeer took heed.
The old gentleman smiled, then said; "Th' name's Kringle."
Charlie froze stiff, with his skin in a tingle
Knowin' full well from the stories he knew,
That a legend of fancy, must somehow be true.
Kringle told Charlie, "You've saved us dear friend.
We got turned around when we had to descend.
This cloudbank you're in, as near as I've seen,
Runs from Sigurd to Preston, and all towns between."
Great-uncle Charlie soon started to grin,
Then thought of the hurry that Kringle was in.
"Take this trail back, to a lone poplar tree,
Turn a hard left to Johansen's, you'll see."
For kindness received, Kringle reached in the back
Of his sleigh to retrieve, a brown paper sack
Full of oranges and candy, and a bottle of cheer,
That Charlie kept always, as his own souvenir.
Old Kringle shouted, "Take it up boys and girls!"
They disappeared quick in the fog and snow swirls.
The sound of the bells, helped Charlie to trace
Whether Kringle had made it to Johansen's place.
Their last visit finished, away they did fly.
Looking up, Charlie glimpsed through the haze in the sky
A sleigh and eight reindeer, off to the west,
As he held hat in hand, up close to his chest.
I realize it's hard to have faith in this yarn.
Let me be clear, I could not give a darn.
My dear sainted uncle convinced me it's true.
I'm here to say now that I'll prove it to you.
Before passing on, he left in his will,
The sealed antique bottle, which I possess still.
In print, on the label, the words clearly state:
"North Pole Distillers - 1898"
© 2004, Jan F Erickson
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
I actually have the bottle mentioned in the last verse.
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