Editor’s note: This poem, by content coach Duane M. George and reporter Jojo Santo Tomas, was first published Dec. 24, 2000, in the Pacific Daily News. Here it is again.
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all over the isle,
The stores were jampacked, lines as long as a mile.
Midnight Masses were done, some as early as 10,
Then it was back to the house, to make kelaguen.
The kids watched wrestling, should have been in their beds,
While visions of boñelos dagu cha-cha-cha’d through their heads.
My five dogs were all barking, as midnight came near,
And Santa came calling, but with carabao, not reindeer.
He landed on the roof with such a bump and a shake
That I jumped up and ran, thinking, “Laña! Earthquake!”
To the window I flew, then I cursed and I muttered,
Because it, like the rest, was still typhoon-shuttered.
So I ran out of the house to our kitchen outdoors,
As the coconut trees swayed along white sandy shores,
Tun Nick and his carabao (Photo: Cid Caser/Pacific Daily News)
When what before my wondering eyes did appear now,
But a miniature bullcart and eight miniature carabao,
With a little manamko’ driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment that it had to be Tun Nick.
With a clatter of big hooves, his carabao they came,
Guam through my eyes 