Posted on 12/19/2001 8:52:50 AM PST by Slyfox
Day 1: Dear Boudreaux, Tanks for de bird in de Pear tree. I fix it las' night with dirty rice. I doan tink de pear tree will grow in de swamp, so I swap it for a Satsuma.
Day 2: Dear Boudreaux, You letter say you sent two turtle doves, but all I got was two scrawny pigeons. Anyway, I mixed dem with andouille an made some gumbo out of dem.
Day 3: Dear Boudreaux, Why doan you sent some crawfish? I'm tired of eating dem darn birds. I gave two of dose prissy French chickens to Marie Trahan over at Grans Bayou an fed the tird one to my dog Phideaux. Marie needed some sparing partners for her fighting rooster.
Day 4: Dear Boudreaux, Mon Dieux! I tol you no more friggin birds. Deez four, what you call dem "calling birds" were so noisy you could hear dem all de way to Napoleonville. I used dere necks for my crab traps, an fed de rest of dem to de gators.
Day 5: Dear Boudreaux, You finally sen' somethin useful. I like dem golden rings. Me, I hocked dem at da pawn shop in Thibodeaux and got enuf money to fix da shaft on my shrimp boat an buy a round for da boys at de Raisin' Cane Lounge. Merci Beaucoup!
Day 6: Dear Boudreaux, Couchon! Back to da birds, you Cajun turkey! Poor egg suckin' Phideaux is scared to death at dem six geeses. He tried to eat dems eggs and dey peck de heck out ah his snout. Dey good at eating cockroaches, though. I may stuff one of dem wit erster dressing on Christmas day.
Day 7: Dear Boudreaux, I'm gonna wring your fool neck next time I see you. Thibeau, da mailman, is ready to kill ya. The merde from all dem birds is stinkin' up his mailboat. He afraid someone will slip on dat stuff and sue him good. I let those seven swans loose to swim on de bayou and some duck hunters from Mississippi blasted dem out of de water. Talk to you tomorrow.
Day 8: Dear Boudreaux, poor ole Thibeau, he had to make tree trips on his mailboat to deliver dem 8 maids a milkin and their cows. One of dem cows got spooked by da alligators and almost tipped over da boat. I doan like dem shiftless maids, me no. I tolt dem to get to work guttin fish and sweepin' the shack but dey say it wasn't in dair contract. Dey probably think dey too good ta skin nutrias I caught las night.
Day 9: Dear Boudreaux, What you trying to do huh? Thibeau had to borrow the Lutcher ferry to carry dem jumpin twits you call Lords-a-Leaping across the bayou. As soon as dey gots here dey wanted a tea break with crumpets. I doan know what dat means but I says, "Well La Di Da. You get Chicory coffee or nuttin." Mon Dieu, Emile. What I'm gonna feed all dese bozos? Dey too snooty for fried nutria, and de cows done eat my turnip greens.
Day 10: Dear Boudreaux, You got to be outs you mind! If de mailman don't kill you, I will fo sure. Today he deliver 10 half nikid floozies from Bourbon Street. Dey said dey be "Ladies Dancin" but dey doan act like ladies in front of dose Limey twits. Dey almos left after one of dem got bit by a water moccasin over by da out-house. I had to butcher 2 cows to feed toute le monde an had to get toilet paper; the Sears catalog wasn't good enuf fer dose hoity toity Lords' royal behin.
Day 11: Dear Boudreaux, where y'at? Cheerio an pip pip. Your 11 pipers piping arrives today from the House of Blues, second lining as dey got off de boat. We fixed snuffed goose and beef jambalaya and we having a fais-do-do. Da new mailman he having a good time, yeah, dancing with de floozies. Thibeau he jump off de Sunshine Bridge yesterday, screaming your name. If you get a mysterious, ticking package in de mail, doan open it.
Day 12: Dear Boudreaux, I sorry to tell ya but I not your true love anymore, no. After da fais-do-do, I spent de night with Jacque, de head piper. We decide to open a restaurant and gentleman's club on de bayou. The floozies, pardon me, Ladies dancing can make $20 for a table dance, and de Lords can be waiters an valet to park de boats. Since de maids doan have no more cows ta milk, I trained dem ta set my crab traps, watch my trotlines, an run my shrimping business. We will probably gross a million next year!
I found "A Cajun Night Before Christmas" in a bookstore in MS last year. Santa comes down the bayou in a pirouge pulled by 8 alligators!! It is so much fun to read aloud!
Mais quand même... Joyeux Noëlle mes amis!
Den Mama in de fireplace done roas' up de ham
Stir up de gumbo an' make bake de yam.
Den out on de by?you dey go such a clatter
make soun' like old Boudereau done fall off his ladder.
I run like a rabbit to got to de do'
trip over de dorg an' fall on de flo'!
As I look out de do' in de light o' de moon
I t'ink "Manh, you crazy or got ol' too soon."
Cuz dere on de by?you W'en I stretch ma' neck stiff
dere's eight alligator a pullin' de skiff.
An' a little fat drover wit' a long pole?ing stick
I know r'at away Got to be ole St. Nick.
Mo' fas'er an' fas'er de 'gator dey came
he whistle an' holler an' call dem by name:
"Ha, Gaston! Ha, Tiboy! Ha, Pierre an' Alcee!
Gee, Ninette! Gee, Suzette! Celeste an' Renee!"
"To de top o' de porch To de top o' de wall
Make crawl, alligator, An' be sho' you don' fall."
Like Tante Flo's cat T'ru de treetop he fly
W'en de big ole houn' dorg Come a run hisse'f by
Like dat up de porch dem ole 'gator clim!
Wit' de skiff fill o' toy an' St. Nicklus behin'.
Den on top de porch roof, It soun' like de hail.
W'en all dem big 'gator done down dey tail.
Den down de chimmney I yell wit' a bam.
An' Sr. Nicklus fall an' sit on de yam.
"Sacre!",he exclaim,"Ma pant got a hole,
I done sot ma'se'f on dem red hot coal."
He got on his foots an' jump like a cat.
Out to de flo' Where he lan' wit' a SPLAT!
He was dress in musk?rat. From his head to his foot.
An' his clothes is all dirty, wit' ashes an' soot.
A sack full o' playt'ing He t'row on his back.
He look like a burglar, An' dass fo' a fack.
His eyes how dey shine His dimple, how merry!
Maybe he been drink de wine from blackberry.
His cheek was like rose, His nose like a cherry
on secon' t'ought maybe he lap up de sherry.
Wit' snow?white chin whisker an' quiverin' belly.
He shook w'en he laugh like de stromberry jelly!
But a wink in his eye an' a shook o' his head
make my confi?dence dat I don' go to be scared.
He don' do no talkin', gone straight to his work.
Put playt'ing in sock An' den turn wit' a jerk.
He put bot' his ban'. Dere on top o' his head
Cas' an eye on de chimney, An' den he done said:
"wit' all o' dat fire an' dem burnin' hot flame,
Me I ain' goin' back by de way dat I came."
So he run out de do' an' he clim' to de roof.
He ain' no fool, him for to make one more goof.
He jump in his skiff an' crack his big whip.
De 'gator move down an' don' make one slip.
An' I hear him shout loud as a splashin' he go
"Merry Christmas to all 'Til I saw you some mo'!"
Good-bye Joe, he gotta go, me oh my oh
He gotta go-pole the pirogue down the bayou
His Yvonne the sweetest one, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou
Thibodaux, Fontaineaux the place is buzzin'
A Kin-folk come to see Yvonne by the dozen
Dress in style the go hog wild, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fillet gumbo
Cause tonight, I'm gonna see my ma cher a mi-o
Pick guitar, fill fruit far and be gay-o
Son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou
Settle down far from town get him a pirogue
And he'll catch all the fish in the bayou
Swap his mon to buy Yvonne what she need-o
Son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou
So are the animals in the live manger scene hobbling around on wooden legs?
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