There are strange things done under Whidbey’s sun
By the gals who toil for gold.
Our roads and trails have their crazy tales
That would make your blood run cold.
The Christmas lights have seen queer sights
But the queerest they ever did see,
Was the end of the day on Mutiny Bay
They cremated Santa’s effigy.
Now Santa Claus is a Saint because
He lives where the blizzard blows.
Why he left his home in the North to roam
’Round Whidbey, God only knows.
He was always cold so this land of gold
Seemed to pull him like a spell.
Though he’d often say in his homely way
The North Pole was colder’n Hell
Some think he’s a ghost but by far the most
Of us know that he’s really real.
And we don’t like to think it’s a man dressed in pink
Who is making the boys and girls squeal.
And we know for a fact he’s not playing an act
When we see him on bright Christmas Eve.
For he’s letting us know that come tomorrow
We can trust him, and we will believe!
Last Thanksgiving Day when the gals got their pay,
And the Sales were on at the Mall
There was such a rush to get in on the crush
And bring home a marvelous haul.
So onto the ferry, their eyes were merry
Their hearts were light and gay,
As off they went with cash to be spent
Or plenty of time to pay.
First to Macy’s they went. A guy wizened and bent
Said, “Ho. Ho. Santa’s my name.
Why is your face pale? I guess you missed the sale.
You have only yourselves to blame”
The next store was bad, and it made them so mad
At the sight of a rude Santa Claus
Who said, “You must wait, I’d like you to donate
To my kids. It’s a real noble cause.”
With their feet getting sore they went in at the door
Of a shop with a big “Welcome” sign.
There slumped in a chair, feet stuck in the air,
Was Santa with a bottle of wine.
To a large store they came, of Sears-Roebuck fame
“Let’s get our gifts here,” someone said.
But the Santa Claus man, had a big nose that ran
And his two eyes were bloodshot and red.
It continued all night, and nothing went right
So they trudged back to Whidbey’s fair shore.
“Tell you what” said the one, “we will all have some fun.
With Mall Santas we’ll even the score.”
So they fixed up a stand from some logs on the sand
And they sat a fake Santa thereon.
And when it was lit, they stood round for a bit,
Just waiting till Santa was gone.
But, lo and behold, though the weather was cold,
There was Santa just smiling a smile.
They could not turn away, for they heard the ghost say,
“Please keep the fire burning a while.
You Whidbey Isle gals, with your husbands and pals,
Know how to treat Santa right.
For in spite of the storm you have made me so warm,
I’ll stay here on Whidbey tonight.
I want you to know that you don’t need to go
Far away from fair Whidbey Isle.
For there’s many stores here and they’re really not dear
And they’ll welcome you in with a smile.
They have what you need. They have good books to read,
They have candy and gifts and fine food.
They have treasures galore in each beautiful store!
You’ll soon get the holiday mood.”
You know, he was right, so all the next night,
They did all their shopping right here.
They had so much fun, yes, they did, everyone
That they vowed to shop here all year.
There’s some queer things done ’neath the Winter’s sun,
On the beaches down by the sea.
But the queerest, I guess, was that night, no less,
They burned Santa in effigy.
(With apologies to Robert Service)
The author, Geoff Hornsby, is a Freeland resident.
