'twas the night before Christmas on a big lake "down east"
anglers fished in their shanties with dreams of a feast.

O'er auger-drilled ice holes, they sat and they knelt,
in hopes of a big catch of perch, pike or smelt.

Just then,a jalopy-like sleigh fell from space,
strewing buckets of minnows all over the place.

Then out popped old Santa. "I need help, I fear.
"Every letter before me says, Send fishing gear."

I've requests from all over, and I'm running quite late,
"cause I don't know my rigs and my lures from bait."

They laughed and said, "Well, for that type of haul,
we'll just catalog shop, then give Bass Pro a call.

Making Santa's selections, they used his charge card,
then flew off to the store and found gifts by the yard.

For largemouth!
For Salmon!
For Muskies1
And Splake!
For Walleyes!
For Sunnies!
For Mackerel!
And Hake!

Some waders for rivers!
Some flippers!
Some floats!
Some inboards!
Some Outboards!
Some motors for boats!

They even picked fly rods and sleek spinning reels,
tied flies by the dozen and plenty of creels.

The sleigh was now loaded with poles, jigs and plugs,
with spoons and bright lures that resembled big bugs.

"It's great!" Santa said, I can't thank you enough,
But I have one more problem, Just who gets which stuff?"

So Santa's new helpers climbed back on the sleigh.
"Take off, and we'll give you some lessons today."

They flew off to Montauk and Jersey shoreline,
Carolina locales hidden deep in the pine.

Wherever they flew, they gave just the right gear,
They flew East!
They flew West!
They flew far!
They flew near!
Then off to Mobile with its Catfish and gar,
and up the Gulf Coast where great Bullheads are.

They expressed some concern for guys in the Keys,
'cause Bone-fish fanatics are harder to please.

Then, north towards the border for Smallmouth and Trout,
where Muskies and Pickerel swim all about.

Down Yellowstone way, heading toward Jackson Hole,
to the Tetons next-they were reaching their goal,
Where rivers run through it-Great Falls to Big Sky'
they pointed out (hatchery)Steelhead you just catch and fry.

They stopped at all points from Wasatch to Sun Valley,
dropping tackle and bait but no time to dally.

For just as the Washington Salmon were spawning,
dawn hinted of breaking, and Santa was yawning.

One last stop in Frisco-Red Snapper for all,
Santa said, fork in hand "Now I'm having a ball"

With their bellies all full, back to Maine Santa flew,
giving bobbers and gaffs to each one of his crew.

Soon they heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all!
May the fish always bite."

I received this today from a client and thought it was very nice. So from fp, Merry Christmas to all.