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Friday, May 20, 2011

Twas the night before Pro-Tec


 'Twas the night before Pro-Tec, when all through the Park
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The boards were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Doren soon would be there;
The fans were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of disasters danced in their heads;
And Kristy in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the parking there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bleacher to see what was the matter.
Away to the Combi I dropped like a flash,
Tore open the coping and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the pool below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature skater, and eight tiny Masters,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Cab.
More rapid than Hawks his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Hosoi! now, Miller! now, Mountain and Hawk!
On, Grosso! on Salba! on, Kasai and Peters!
To the top of the deck! to the top of the coping!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers jammed,
With their bags full of tricks, and St. Cab too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard Dave Duncan
Shouting and laughing as he watched the jam.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the Combi St. Cab came with a bound.
He was dressed all in yellow, with a cone in his head,
And his clothes were all tarnished with kneepads and helmet;
A bundle of bearings he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a skater just opening his backpack.
His eyes - how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like MRZ!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the animal beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a half-pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly 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 nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his deck,
And filled all the pit with tricks and perf,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the square pool he rose;
He sprang to his skate, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight...


Happy Pro-Tec day!
The animal beard of his chin was as white as a yellow Cab...

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posted by Xavier Lannes @ Friday, May 20, 2011 


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