‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through my shop,
No progress occurring; all my building had flopped.
So I gathered my questions ‘round the monitor with care:
For some posts to Schade, Nicholas’s - was anyone there?

My forms wierdly trestled on their crooked strongbed,
Made visions of a stripper plumb - pipedreams in my head.
And the tablesaw’s kerf creep and top warped and cracked,
Were useless for ripping – every pass cut more scrap!

When out from the ocean there arose such a clatter
That I sprang from my keyboard to see what was the matter . . .
Away through the workshop I flew like a flash,
Jumped the twisted rudder I’d have to throw in the trash.

The moonlight reflecting from the waves row on row,
Gave the lustrous surf-spray an ethereal glow!

When what to my wandering eye should appear,
But a kayak sleigh pulled by Great Briny Kayakeers!
With a little head paddler so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Schade, Nick!

More rapid than Friedal, his Yakkeers they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

“On Ken, and Mark M, Jerry and Bart,
Please Chris and John, where should we start?”

“Hey Erez, Jim, and Jerry, with the infamous Greg Hicks,
And David and Tom or some Pete’s Cats Paw Rosyk’s”

“And Don, Jim and Spidey, could you build him a seat?
But d’ya think that lycra’s a bit too effete??”

“And Eric from Shearwater, and Vaclav Stejs-kall
Don’t you ever use any skegs-at-all?”

“Hey Bill Mike and Roger, paddlin your Putz’s
Ken and Rehd, should we use skene trutsses?”

“On Ken and Kathea, the erudite Paul G,
You want an answer, how about three?”

“Hey Craig, hey Ben, Brian’s still reachin’,
Lance lend a hand but don’t you be leechin’.”

“And Greg S and Kelly, wrapped up in skin,
And Earl and Brian, should we tether him in?”

“Hey Ross and Kent, hey Dale and-Ed-gar,
Mix up some epoxy in a graduat-ed-jar?”

“Now Ed and Matthew, Shawn’s rad pfd,
Fittings from Grant; ply from CLC’s lee.”

“And everyone else, who’s signed up to this hoard,
Your enthusiasm and interest’s all our reward,
So lets all pull together, get everyone on track,
And help all of us construct a half-decent yak!”

“And discussion’s alright, so lets make it clear,
Even comments from ‘Roberts - The Read, Noted, Yakkeer’!!
But now with a bunch of Sam’s test panels in,
Was there really compression with 3.2 oz satin??”

As dry heaves before the smell of wet booties multiply,
When they meet with an obstacle, the obstacles good-bye!

Thus into my workshop, the Yakkeers they drew,
With their yaks full of tools and Shade, Nick’s new urethane glue.
And from the top of the sheer, from the coaming too tall,
They planed away, scraped away, smoothed away all!

And then in a twinkling, from inside the bow,
Was some scrabbling and scraping , I still don’t know how,
So I poked in my head, was turning around,
When down from the endpour Schade, Nicolas crashed to the ground!

Luckily dressed in thick neoprene from his head to his toes
“Didn’t hurt me at all - checking where dookie smutz goes!”
With a bundle of tools, in a water proof pack,
He looked just like a paddler dismounting his yak.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Assured my deck’s stripping could go right ahead,
He spoke to the horde and went straight to work -
Answered all my questions, then turned with a jerk,

And laying his paddle aside his yak’s nose,
And giving a nod, in that ethereal spray flows!
He sprang to his yak sleigh, to the team gave a whistle,
And away they all stroked outa town on their missiles!

But I heard him exclaim as he surfed out of sight . . .
“Merry Christmas to all and may your wood strips glue tight!”

-mike allen