T’was the day before Christmas and all through the bay
not a critter was stirring, nor making hay

The yachts were nestled all snug on their moorings
while rain pelted down and sailors still snoring

The forecast called for merely a gale
Would anyone in their right mind want to sail?

I sprang from my bed at half past seven
To teach sailing in remnants leftover from cyclone evan

When what to my wondering eyes should appear?
But two students decked fully out in boots and raingear

Emry and Oslo beamed and were ready
in spite of the weather that hung o’er the jetty

So off we set with a reef in the main
the jib no more than a kerchief came

we tacked and we gybed all through the day
dodging and weaving the yachts in the bay

our 20-foot Tiri screamed right along
and we wondered what might possibly go wrong

When all of a sudden I heard such a clatter
That I sprang from my seat to see what was the matter

The rain needled down on the backs of our jackets
And the wind in the rigging made quite a racket

The little yacht healed and the helm was hard over
45 knots …and not a not lower

I let go the main sheet in a mighty big hurry
As the gods unleashed their full furry

Emry and Oslo looked quite concerned
But I reminded them of all they had learned

So we sailed on that day in the absence of others
And they passed their course with all flying colors