By Leonard L. Brown

Twas the night before clamsaa when all through the pit

not a horn was playing, not even a Schmidt

The cases were standing alone by each chair

in fears that St. Hubertus soon would be there;

 

The players were nestled all snug in their beds

while visions of Geyers danced in their heads;

and I in my tux with a cumberbun quite pink

Had just settled down to long night of drink;

 

When out on the beach there arose such a splash

I rolled off my table, and fell flat on my ash.

Away to the window I crawled in low gear

tore open the shutters to see what was near.

 

The moon on the beach shown such a light

I winced while watching from being so tight;

when to my eyes that drink had befud

a miniature truck drove out of the mud

With a little old driver whose clothes were amus

I knew in a moment it must be St. Tus

More rapid than Bruckner his helpers they came

and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

Now Lowell! Now Paul! Now Dennis and Phil!

On Wes, On Aubrey, On Herman and Bill!

 

To the edge of the beach to the top of the wall

now come on boys, come on boys push it! Push it all!

As old cheese that before the nose befouls

as helpers these guys were no better than cows

but they pushed the truck up this talented crew

with a cargo of clams and St. Hubertus too.

And then while tinkling, I heard in the mire

the spinning and groaning of each little tire.

As I affixed my zipper and was turning around

to the stage St. Hubertus came with a bound

 

He was dressed in Velvet from his head to his knees

and his clothes were all stained with valve oil and greas?.

A case of clams he had brought on his back

and dropped on stage ; it landed with a smack

 

His eyes- how they twinkled, and his grin how hellish

as the box of clams started to raise a great smellish

his droll little mouth was drawn in a sneer

Then I knew that clamsaa must be coming quite near

The stump of a mouthpiece he held tight in his teeth

and a brasso smell encircled his head like a wreath

he had broad face and was not at all cute

his body was shaped much as a stopping mute

 

He was plump as Myers, a right scary old elf

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

soon gave me to know I had much to dread.

 

He spoke not a word but opened the box;

the stench of clam filled the room like a pox

"I have clams for amateur and clams for pros

and clams for schoolkids, I even have those!"

 

"I have thinking clams and clams for counting

and clams for entrances", said he, his enthusiasm mounting

I have clams for high notes and even for the rest

I have clams for the worst and clams for the best

 

He sprang to his clam truck and gave his section a call

and suddenly they were out of the pit and out of the hall

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight

"Happy clamsaa to all, to all a bad night."