'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Mr. Relic soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their muskie sleds,
While visions of 50"ers danced in their heads;
Father in his sweatpants, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a short afternoon nap,
When out on the water there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to the casting deck to see what was the matter.

To my reel I flew like a flash,
Just as a 'skie broke the water with a crash.
I cranked on my reel after the hook was set
And my father was a ready with his net,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Lowe Roughneck, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Mr. Relic.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Clark! Now, James! Now, Tim and Brandon!
On, Bruce! On Tony! On, Mark and Sheldon!
To the tip of Jewett's Island! Use an imitation Chub!
Now dash away! dash away! all to the Bucket Club!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When netting  a muskie you cannot be shy,

So in the net it was and right in front of the crew,
With the boat full of lures, and Mr Relic too.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filed all his hooks; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up from his casting deck he rose;
He sprang to his seat, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."