24/12/2024
‘Twas the Night Before Christmas in Felixstowe
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the town,
Not a seagull was stirring, not even around.
The stockings were hung in the Town Hall with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The latest Facebook post from Felixstowe News
Filled up the feed, spreading festive good news.
Stories of joy from the docks to the Pier,
Filled the page with holiday spirit and cheer.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Christmas danced in their heads.
And the Mayor with his chain, so shiny and bright,
Had wished all the town a warm festive goodnight.
When out by the docks there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a kite,
Tore open the curtains and gazed at the night.
The moon on the waves by Felixstowe Pier,
Glistened and sparkled as Christmas drew near.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a tiny red sleigh, with St. Nick at the steer.
His sleigh moved so quickly, it glided with ease,
Dancing like whispers upon a night breeze.
He called out a greeting as he passed by so spry,
“Merry Christmas, Felixstowe! How time flies by!”
Past the great Christmas tree in the town centre square,
Opposite the Palace Cinema’s glow so fair,
The sleigh soared onward, with presents in tow,
Through the crisp winter skies over Felixstowe.
As containers at the docks are moved with great speed,
The sleigh soared above with St. Nick in the lead.
Past the old Martello and Landguard Fort’s wall,
He flew through the night bringing cheer to them all.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard from the square
The jingling of bells on the cold winter air.
As I turned my head and was looking around,
Down the Town Hall’s chimney he came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, with a cap for the weather,
And his coat was as red as the Pier’s bright letters.
A sack full of presents he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a sailor just opening his pack.
His eyes, how they twinkled, his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
He waved to St. John the Baptist, its windows aglow,
And with a wink, on his way, off he did go.
He spoke not a word but went straight to his task,
Filling the stockings; he needed no ask.
Then laying a finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, and away he did go,
Past the Christmas tree, through the cold evening’s glow.
But I heard him exclaim, as he sailed out of sight,
“Merry Christmas, Felixstowe, and to all a good night!”