This feature, THE SHEIKH’S NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS is directed, and produced by the author Andy Bozeman.
©1987 and ©2015, by the author, for the text and voice publication.
Also, ©2015, by the author, for the Audio Book Recording.
All music in this recording was composed and produced, and the copyrights are owned, by Jack Waldenmaier; and is available exclusively from MusicBakery.com.
Below is the Audio Book recording with a runtime in minutes of 6:36. Play it, and read along. ENJOY!
A Visit From Saint Nicholas, more commonly known as The Night Before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore, is a favorite of young and old, alike. Many years ago I discovered a delightful twist on this traditional poem, Cajun Night Before Christmas, by and . It was so much fun it made me want to write one of my own. It took about fifteen minutes on a Sunday afternoon to write, and was presented the same night as part of a Christmas play at church. The audience laughed so hard, some until they cried. That was over twenty-five years ago, and this week someone just reminded me that he, his wife and their now-grown children still laugh about it. He asked me if he could get a copy to read to his grandchildren. So, for everyone’s enjoyment, I present :
The Sheikh’s Night Before Christmas
by Andy Bozeman ©1987 and 2015
I am the elder of my tribe, the Sheikh. I lead my family and followers, as my father before me, and his father before him, and many, many fathers before them. Wandering the sands of the desert, I have seen many strange things. I’ve seen a jackal chased by a lamb. I’ve seen a winter mirage, when the cold midnight night air turned the sky on its head with the mountains up high and the stars down low. But, one December night not long ago, I saw something I cannot explain, but hope never to forget.
‘Twas the Night before Christmas and all through the land,
An evening breeze blew o’er dry desert sand.
Not a creature was stirring – I am speaking mammals –
Except for my twin, disobedient camels.
From the day they were born they were nothing but trouble.
They were angry for having just one hump, not double.
Outside of my tent, there arose such confusion
That up I rose quickly all filled with bemusion.
I grabbed a big club and I held it out steady.
If it was robbers, at least I’d be ready.
I rose from my pallet, not making a sound,
I got down on one knee, reeeeal close to the ground.
I slooooowly peeked through the tent flap like this,
And that’s when I got a big wet camel kiss.
At first I thought “this must be one of the twins”
For this is the way that each morning begins.
I wiped my face off on my sleeve ……. just like you,
And that’s when I saw them, …..not one hump but two.
Though shocked, I did stand up to reach my full height,
And then I beheld a remarkable sight,
A caravan driver so tall and so neat,
Wrapped shoulder to heel in a bright crimson sheet.
There were sixteen big humps but of camels, just eight,
And I thought “could this be Alexander the Great?”
As he stood there so tall on the top of the dune,
I could see a white beard in the light of the moon.
His skin was all rosy from fast blowing sands.
This is something that happens in dry desert lands.
The stem of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke did encircle his head like a wreath,
His eyes were as blue as the night salamander,
And I realized this was not Alexander.
My fears were subsiding. This man was no meanie.
I believe to this day, that he was a genie.
He moved very quickly, not a sound could I hear,
As he floated by ghost-like but causing no fear.
And then with a magical wave of his hand,
Every pack on the camels fell into the sand.
The toys in the bundles rose up in the air,
And flew to my children – some here and some there.
There were playthings and clothing and sandals for feet,
And large wooden bowls filled with many sweet treats.
My twin camels were standing as still as could be.
But they looked so happy, near bursting with glee.
And as I saw why to my throat came a lump,
Each was standing there sporting not one but two humps.
I turned to say “thanks.” He was not to be seen.
The desert was once again empty, serene.
Then, from high in the sky in a voice not so meek,
“Meeerry Christmaaas .…You be a good sheikh!”
No camels were harmed in the making of this presentation.
The Sheikh portrayed himself.
From Andy, the Sheikh, and all the camels, including the twins, Merry Christmas.
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