'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the bay, the charter boats' music was thumping away.
The tradewinds were howling at twenty five knots, and wind generators were pumping out watts.
The barnacles were blooming all over our hull, the top sides were spotted and chalky and dull.
The captain lay sweating on the starboard settee cursing the outrageous mooring ball fee.
The first mate was equally preoccupied, wondering why the bilge pump had just died.
Then up on the deck there came a loud rap, disturbing the liveaboards' well deserved nap.
When a voice said, "Hey Cap'n, Hey Cap'n, Whaz Happnin?"
The desperate crew froze, and hoped he'd leave, I suppose.
But this one was a very persistent sort, he sidled along 'til he came to a port.
They pretended to snore and thought they could hide, but the obnoxious boat boy was peeking inside!
More rapid than needle fish his offers they flew, Coconuts, starfruit, bananas for you?
A tour, some jewelry, how 'bout some limes?
Don't worry, be happy. We're having good times.
Do you need diesel, sodas, or beer? My friend, I'm the best, I'll bring it right here.
As seafroth that before the wild hurricane flies, the captain's blood pressure started to rise.
So up to the porthole he went with a jump, just in time to hear a very loud thump.
And then in a twinkle we heard down our side, the screeching and scraping when two hulls collide.
On deck we both ran to see what to do, while the boat boy jumped into the fracas too.
Instructions were shouted, the bumpers they flew, and their anchor was lifted for all to view.
We all saw the problem, an old CQR, the draggingest anchor there is by far.
The boat boy's eyes gleamed at the profit he'd reap, and us, we just wanted to get back to sleep.
He spoke not a word; we all know the fee, and the other boat's captain paid twenty EC.
They all drifted off to moor to a ball, we were so happy to be rid of them all.
But I heard him exclaim as if on cue, "Happy Christmas my friend, I'll be back to see you!"