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'Twas The Night Before Christmas

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Well Waymarkers, Christmas is nigh, so it's time that we told you a little Christmas Waymarking story that may or may not have happened to us many years ago, back in the days when we were first on the road, hunting for new places to Waymark, new sights, new categories, a time when everything was shiny and new to us. So gather round the fire (here it's on channel 165) and we'll tell you the story of how we may or may not have met Kris Kringle himself:


'Twas the night before Christmas and here in the town
All had been Waymarked so we bedded down,
We'd Waymarked so long that our fingers were numb
Now each had our own dreams of Waymarks to come.


Now where should we head when the day dawned anew
And we could put footprints in next morning's dew?
Our options were many, but which would be best
As we could head anywhere, north, south, east, west.


While weighing our options I drifted to sleep
With hopes that the day produced Waymarks to reap,
Historic old churches would dance in my head
As slowly I sank deep into the old bed.


We knew the motels here would not be the best
But darkness and hunger slowed us on our quest,
And forced us in here to this seedy motel
So here for the night is the place we would dwell.


As sleep overtook me and lessened my pain
Outside in the darkness it started to rain,
Oblivious to it, remaining in dreams
I slept the whole night, or so that's what it seems.


When morning awoke me, outside in the dawn
Through the mist covered window and shade that I'd drawn,
I saw a strange figure outside on the walk
And he beckoned to me as if wanting to talk.


With a portly fat belly and all dressed in red
He was soggy and sodden from toe to his head,
He must have been out in the rain through the night
So I hastened to find just what might be his plight.


I invited him in through the creaking front door
Then he started to speak as he dripped on the floor,
"My name is Kris Kringle, I've come here to you
To tell you a story I know to be true."


He said "There's an old town way up in them hills
Waymarkers who visit will find many thrills,
It's wholly untouched by the Waymarking crew
So Waymarks in that town will always be new."


He gave us directions to this Xanadu
"For Christmas this present is what I give you."
Is what he then said as he turned to depart
Then sloshed to the street where he'd parked his old cart.


With reindeer for power, the cart was a truck
That was straight from a dream that had just run amok,
All covered in garlands and whistles and bells
The kind of a truck a used car salesman sells.


He whistled, then yelled and then screamed at the team
But to no avail so he needed a scheme,
He promised them goodies, the ploy seemed to work
For newly alert they took off with a jerk.


And when they'd gained speed they then started to fly
Ascending up high in the cloud covered sky,
Then up through the clouds they were soon out of sight
I must now admit that it gave me a fright.


We've searched for that town to which Santa alludes
But to this day it for us still eludes,
It's not to be found in the spot he described
With maps or with sightings it never has gibed.


Had Santa been here, or was it just a dream?
For often things aren't always just as they seem,
But still to this day do our hopes remain bright

Edited by BK-Hunters
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Given that Christmas is almost upon us and that I'm too lazy to write another tale this year, I thought I'd rehash this one for any who may have missed it last year.

This is my Christmas gift to you (sort of like regifting). Don't complain - at least it's not a lump of coal. :)

And maybe, if you're good this year, I'll write another next Christmas. And maybe, if you're BAD, I'll write TWO, so be good!!!

Merry Christmas and Happy Waymarking to all,

Keith & Barb

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