It's Christmas Eve, and here's my Christmas gift for you.
'Twas the Night Before Christmas (Bassin' Style)
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with mono,
In hopes that Saint Nicholas would be here pronto.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of video games danced in their heads.
And my wife in her nightgown and I without cap,
Had just settled our heads for a warm, toasty nap.
And as I began slowly to drift off to sleep,
My thoughts did turn quickly to the next morning’s feats.
For surely I knew that my family would fail
To consider at all my bass fishing thrall.
No drop shots (not weights, special hooks or swivels!)
No one would think that I might want a buzzbait,
Or think about how well different frogs just might rate.
Not one would consider I might want a rod.
“G. Loomis? Who’s he?”, I could hear in my fog.
What rig could I possibly find ‘neath the tree?
None without a picture of the famous Mickey.
So into my dreams I slid in distress,
While knowing tomorrow would bring only jests.
“Where is that big one? Did he get away again?”
That old Uncle Ricky could be quite a pain.
But as my dream slowly did begin to unfold,
I realized the dream wasn’t bad, after all!
Mike Iaconelli was there in the beginning,
Showing me how he stayed focused all season!
KVD taught me to fish the Great Lakes,
And just how to select the right spinnerbait.
The best way to jerkbait, I learned at his side,
Going back to the docks, he even let me drive!
Bill Dance and Denny both taught me jigging,
Denny went first, in shallow water we went fishing.
We killed them! We waffled! Five pounders were normal!
It seemed every flip came back with a monster!
Bill showed me next how to fish the deep structure,
How to read shore lines, birds fishing, the depth finder.
We hooked ‘em up deep and they fought to the surface,
We patted their bellies and then we released ‘em.
Yamamoto showed up without any reason,
Driving a van full with all his creations!
“Take what you’d like”, he cried, very pleasing,
“I brought extra Red Shad; I knew that you’d need it!”
“And take some for Danny, and Nicky and Bruce!
Those guys never have enough of my stuff!”
I cleaned him out quickly, but he didn’t mind,
“Just use it each day, you’ll be a pro in no time!”
Just then in my dream, I was in my new Ranger,
A Z-21; what could be stranger?
Running far south on NY’s Lake George,
Between those tall mountains, and down through the gorge.
The boat was quite nicely, most fully equipped,
Storage lockers overflowed from the baits stuffed in.
And then, up ahead, a great mountain did open,
I turned over that way and soon was within it.
I docked and got out, couldn’t believe my eyes,
Because there in that mountain was quite a surprise!
The inside was fully, completely occupied,
With bass fishing gear of most every kind!
There were buzzers and Trick Worms and drop shot equipment,
Frogs, Silver Buddies, and Crankbaits abundant!
Jigs of all kinds on the racks I did find,
(Including that new Uhrig “Evolution” kind!)
Spinnerbaits took up a whole giant section,
Chatterbaits didn’t escape my detection.
Soft plastics abundant were every which way,
Even Larry Nixon couldn’t leave in one day!
G. Loomis rods took up a whole section,
GLX models were your only selection.
Reels of all kinds were easily spotted,
Shimano Curados grew in trees that were potted.
Every type line that you ever imagined,
Could be found on one wall, the selection was magic!
Just then a deep rumble rolled over that hall,
And I heard in the distance a mighty “Ho-Ho”!
A bright, blood-red Skeeter roared in from a distance,
And a red, fur-clad driver climbed out without assistance.
Smiling, he approached me, and held out his hand,
As I took it, I realized, I recognized the man!
It was Ray Scott, dressed in red as Saint Nick,
“How do you like my North Pole?”, he winked.
“I started this sport those long years ago,
And look at the products that from it have grown!”
“But what makes me happy, what makes me complete,
Is the joy that it’s brought to bassers who compete,
Or just fish on weekends, or cast from the shore.
How you fish isn’t important, that you do is far more!”
And in that brief moment, I realized the thought,
Bass fishing brings so much joy to us all.
It just doesn’t matter if the family understands,
As long as a few good fishing buddies you have.
So I awoke from my slumber, refreshed and renewed,
And wrote down my dream to relate it to you.
As I heard Ray exclaim ‘fore he drove out of sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all, Tight Lines!”
