|Twas the nite before Christmas - Trini Style|
'Twas de night before Christmas, when all tru de house, all de fellers was tinkin 'bout pastel an' souse. De hams were all hung by de sideboard wid care, in hopes that tomorrow, there'd be nuff sweet food to share. De chil'ren were ball-up all tight in their beds, while visions of black cake danced in their heads.
You cud smell de sweet bread in de oven from far, and I had just crack a fresh bottle of Vat 19 my star. When out in de chicken coop there arose such a clatter. I jump up from my rocking chair to see wha de ram-bam was de matter. Away to the window I flew like my neighbor's van, equip wid 2 roast bake , holdin in my hand.
The moon on de tree looked so lovely an'bright, but it suddenly occured to me ah too tired to fight. When, what with my malicious eyes do I see? Ah great big mako senta-pee (centipede) Bring de cutlass chupid boy ! Dis ting goin bite me! And de nex ting I look, it was up by my knee.
More rapid than Du Maurier dis ting start to climb, if I had some Baygon, I knew I'd be fine. The brow of my forehead was starting to sweat, But wait! I hadda idea...I wasn't done for yet. So I grabble piece a board and give it a chop, Whax! Voop ! Bruggadung! Brax! I would not stop.
You shudda see de ting denn, it tek so much licks... It was now all over the floor, like corn beef on Crix. But Trevor was 'buseing as bad as could be, 'bout how I dirty up de floor wid dead santa-pee. Ah tell he doan worry and ah tell he doan fret, bout that foolish old man like he ain hear meh yet.
He keep making loud noise and giving backchat, so I hit he wid a roast bake, and dat was de end ah dat.