T’was A Cher Cajun Christmas II

T’was the night before Christmas when on the bayou

There was Boudreaux and his good friend Thibodeaux too.

They lifted up four floorboards of their Cajun shack

And pulled out some ball jars with their lips going smack.

“Man, this roux has been aging for almost a year.

It’s thick and it’s brown as Broussard’s bock Beer.

Charity is a virtue and greed is a vice--

Sure we want to give it without thinking twice?”

Boudreaux said softly about his hungry friend’s clue,

“A Cajun man’s wealth is the stock of his roux.

But what good is that if you’ve got lousy chow.

If Cajuns were the wise men when Mary delivered

They’d have offered Jesus roux made with fresh liver.

Folks would have come from both land and sea.

Bethlehem would have had one big boucherie.”

The roux was wrapped in newspaper and bows,

Then set out on the porch in ten even rows.

Stars crisp as cracklings studded the sky.

Wind over the Bayou made a faint sigh.

Then suddenly Cajun Santa appeared,

With his jolly eyes gleaming over his beard.

Merry Christmas my friends, HO, HO, HO, HO, HO,

I see you got roux to make the gumbo.

He loaded his red sack with the presents sublime,

And away he went off, on the drop of a dime.

Thibodaux put on his glasses and spotted an elf

Pocket a jar for Santa, and one for himself.

“It’s Christmas,” said Thibodaux, “Live and let live;

That pepper roux’s gonna make the North Pole leak like a sieve.”