'Twas the Eve of the Hunt

'Twas the eve of the hunt, we were ready for the haul.
Not a digger was sleeping, at least not in St. Paul!
Their shovels were clutched oh so proudly with care,
in hopes that the medallion soon would be theirs!

The diggers were dressed in their boots with good tread,
While visions of dollar signs danced in their heads.
With dad in his long johns and me with my scarf,
We just started off our long walk through the park.

When out on the playground I heard something shatter,
I sprang from my car to see what was the matter.
Away to the swings I flew in a flash,
Slamming the door, almost breaking the glass!

The slide was all covered with new fallen snow
And the monkey bars had icicles that hung really low,
When what to my wondering eyes should appear?
But the whole cooler crew and some 40 oz beers.

With a leader who knew there wasn't much time,
I knew in a flash it must be Terry Valentine!
Swifter than cheetahs her diggers they came
As she whistled and shouted and called them by name.

Now jake inge now green brown now medalling kids and marley king!
On tim the hunter on ian on eags and leelabell!
To the top of the hill to the top of the park!
Now dig away! dig away! dig away all!

Like a plow they uncovered every inch of that place,
Their noses all red and hope in their face.
They dug way up high and some down below,
But not one could uncover that medallion in the snow!

And then in the distance I saw by the water,
A man with a paper, it must be a spotter!
All smug was his face and his eyes sometimes scattered,
He looked like a bum cuz his clothes were all tattered!

The man with the paper was now in his car,
All toasty and warm smoking a big cigar
But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight
Happy digging to all and to all a good night!