Strike King News


Strike King’s - The Night Before Christmas

Twas’ the night before Christmas when all through the lake, Not an angler was stirring, for too much was at stake; The rods were all strung on the boat deck with care, In hopes that blast off soon would be there. The anglers were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of 8 pounders danced in their heads. And momma in her PJ’s, and I in sleep pants, Had just gotten to sleep while we had the chance.; When out in the parking lot there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open my shin when I tripped on a tackle bag. To the moon, on the glimmer of fresh paved asphalt, gave a luster of midday to the things that I saw, when what to my wandering eyes should appear, but a bass boat being pulled by 7 reindeer! With a little ole driver so lively & quick, I knew in a moment that it must be St. Nick! More rapid than running with current they came, He whistled and shouted and called them by name: “Now squarebill! Now jerkbait! Now dropshot and jig! On swimbait! On Crankbait, spinnerbait and A-Rig! To the top of the hotel, to the top of the wall, now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”


Like an XD cast with the wind did they fly, like an unexpected 3 footer, they shot into the sky, Up on the rooftop of the hotel they flew, with a bassboat full of toys & St. Nicholas too. And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof, the prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head and was turning around, St. Nick came in to my room with a bound. He was dressed in a jersey, flip flops and shorts. His sunglasses were on his red stocking cap of course. His eyes were like a raccoons. His dimples – how merry! His cheeks were sunburned and his nose looked like a cherry! His pipe out of his mouth it did poke. And the smoke had the aroma of a well-oiled 2 stroke. He had a broad face and a little round bod That shook when he laughed light a light action rod. He was chubby and plump, like anglers when old, Too much fast food and not enough exercise is what I’m told. A wink of his eye was all that was lackin’, Which he soon gave me, cause’ he knew I was packin’. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, He put lures in all the stockings then he turned with a jerk. He laid a finger to his sunburned nose, nodded his head and to the rooftop he rose. He sprang to his boat and gave his team a shout, and they all flew away like a 250 flat out. But I heard him exclaim as he blasted off out of sight “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Good night!”

From all of us at Strike King, to all of you, Merry Christmas!