Archive

Posts Tagged ‘British Virgin Islands’

De Barracks Yad Bay an Beach Club!

November 22, 2012 Leave a comment

 De Barracks Yad Bay An Beach Club

 It jus so happen dat one day roun de bay dere by de Barracks yad a big truck come an dump out a truck load a san. Wha! Yeh meboy, (I se to meself) now yu talking boy, now yu talkin’ lemme go lay doun in it.

 No sooner said dan done an I was de fus man dare. Boy, ah lay back an cross me leg an crass up me han dem behine me head like ah contemplating de clouds in de clear blue sky. De nex second, ah jump up ana run back home to de head a pave street for me Muddah towel ana umbrella fo style, den ah grab up a can a sardine, two French bread ana red soda ana fly back to de beautiful new san at wha I kno gon soon be “De Barracks Yad Bay an Beach Club” Yeh meboy, ah se to meself now yu talking now yu talking.

 By de time ah reach back, three o fo touris had done fin de spot, but ah tro doun me self right in de middle ah dem, put an me shades ana open me sardine.

Jus den a big hard face man se “Hey Buckra, wha de hell yu tink yu doin, yu can’ see we come tu mix up concrete an cement?” Ah se “wha? Yu crazy? Wha yu commin’ to de beach tu mix up concrete and cement” De man se “Is you is de one who crazy, who de hell tell you dis is a beach, we makin’ a watahfront fo  bigtruck cou pass here” Ah se “wha? Is YOU is de one who crazy, look de beautiful blue watah de, look de san here, look de people in de middle. We here in de Barracks Yad waitin’ bocoups an many years plus fo somebody to bring de san fo de beach. Man de people dem  been laydin doun in de mud full a crab hole an rock stone an badein’ in de watah  wha de bottom fulla broke shell an beer can. De chrirren dem billin san calsel outtah mud an don’ talk abou when de gut runnin and de nightsoil commin’ doun, den dey makin mud pie outta dat!

 No man, we waitin’ two hundred years an mo for dis san tu come (an fo somebody to plug up de gut) We ain’ wan no concrete and cement fo de beach, how de people dem gon lay doun on concrete and cement?, why yu wan tu have to jump up wid yu coal pot an yu fry fish and yu mabi an yu blanket an everyting, everytime some schupid muddah skunk ina bigtruck want tu pass. Yu crazy? No man, bring mo san! Dis is de place right here me boy, in fac we should exten de beach all de way from Wes Indian dock to Cha Cha Ta…ah.. ah mean French Toun!

Yu kno de beach belongs to de people dem and dat way every day will be like Christmas Mahnin fo de whole ah Charlotte Amalia me boy. Man sellin fraco an jumbi bead lef an right, woman sellin pate an benye by de poun. Touris frum all ovah de place commin to see de most beautiful town in de wurl, wid de bigges an de bes and de most beautiful beach in de wurl, rite in de middle ait. An de people dem will own de whole ting!. Man ah tell yu bring mo san! Bring mo san!

The Man Who Swam To St. John (Emancipation Day)

July 3, 2012 3 comments

The Man Who Swam To St. John (Emancipation Day)

 In 1985 Shaky Acres (the recovery program that Tuts and I had started in 1981) was going along fairly well, but was in need of a fund-raiser or two, Tuts heard (along with everyone else) of a proposed St. John swim (every body heard of it because it was considered impossible by most folks, and suicidaly dangerous by local folks who knew that there were hungry sharks out there the size of the battleship “Bismarck”). The UDT (The Frogmen, The Navy Seals, The toughest hombres on or under the sea) while training for many years in St. Thomas, had given up on swimming to St. John because it was simply too crazy and dangerous a deed.

The well-intentioned local lady legislator who had proposed “the swim” was unaware of the deep and dark difficulties inherent in the “big fun fundraiser”

When Tutsie was a young boy, riding back across Sir Francis Drake’s Passage coming home with his Mother from a harvest festival in Cane Garden bay in Tortola,  he looked out from the deck of “The Joan Of Arc” or “The Bomba Charger” at Pillsbury Sound (The five-mile stretch of wild water that separates St. Thomas and St. John) he said to her “I cou’ swim ‘crass dat yu kno” His usually gentle and loving mother, scared to death by what she was hearing, tried to discourage this crazy idea once and for all by replying “Man hush up yu schupid mout, why yu like tu talk such schupid craziness?” Tuts didn’t see any reason to discuss it any further, but, he says, the conviction that he could do it, was locked in his mind for ever after. 

It was July the third, 1985, Emancipation Day in The Virgin Islands. (Emancipation Day is the day in 1849, on which it became official that the slaves in the Danish West Indies had won their freedom and were now and forever more free) Freedom was a long time coming for the children of Africa in the DWI, and very hard-won, as was Tut’s own personal freedom from drugs and alcohol.

 There were forty eight entrants all together, most of them young white kids from the hot-shot St. Croix “Dolphins Swim Team”, they came prepared and ready to succeed, with sleek buoyant body suits, well fitted goggles and the best fins that money could buy

A number of the St. Thomas swimmers were runners down from the states, budding tri-athletes, an elderly white gent determined to show his wife he still “had it” and half a hand full of locals with a mismatched assortment of masks and fins..

Tuts on the other hand was wearing one pair of big and baggy boxer trunks, y nada mas…

 As the other swimmers did warm ups and calisthenics on the sand at Vessup bay, Red Hook, a tough old Tortola sailor, pulled Tuts aside and said” Buaayyy yu, yu crazy buaay? Yuh f ollowing de damn schupid white people dem? Yu don kno de real name fo red hook is shak waff? Buaayy!! Shak ow de biggah den uh submarine! Yu is a black man gon follow dem schupid white people? Buaayy wha rang wid yu, yu crazy o something?”

 Tuts concedes that the strongly delivered warning did cause him much concern, but that he had already told everybody over and again that he was going to do it, told them in the strongest terms, in the face of the harshest ridicule. It was common knowledge that no (sane) black person from the Islands could ever, should ever and would ever attempt to make that swim. Therefore, as his sanity was in question, it was also a crucial moment for recovery in the Islands.

At this moment he was demonstrating clearly (to local folks) that local people who went to fellowship meetings “wid de crazy white people dem” were demonstrably nuts (just like they thought) and for him to chicken out before he even hit the water would have sealed it once and for all. Tuts has since confessed that on that particular morning he had decided that he would rather be eaten alive, than quit.

 Once the old Tortola man realized that he was not talking to a sensible gentleman of color, he began to encourage him with information about what to expect in terms of currents and where to find what he called “soft spots” in the sea. He stated flatly that “yu can’t swim directly East ta St. John, yu will have tu swim for “Loango”  (Loango Key, a small Island due North of St. John) and as yu hold Loango as your goal, the current will be sweepin’ yu south, look sharp! Buaay, dat is de onliest way to get dare”.

 As the swim began, the fast and the fancy took off due East for Cruz bay and before you knew it half of them had been swept away and were heading backwards around Cabrita Point towards Big and Little St. James, then out over the  Anegada Trench, (on the bottom of which the scariest bug eyed things on earth, with jumping, wiggling  electro “bait worms” dangling in front of  foot long razor teeth, swim around four miles down, snapping  steel trap jaws, and saying fish prayers, to get their dribbly lips around something, anything, slathered in coconut oil, or greasy mango scented sun tan lotion) and then south and west for St Croix, Puerto Rico, Santo Domingo, Haiti, The Caymans, The Isle of Pines Cuba, and New Orleans. (of course by the time they got to New Orleans there would be nothing left of them but a Speedo tag and whatever plastics they’d swallowed along the way) needless to say, an armada of rescue boats started pulling people in over the gunnels, like langustas on parade, on a fish pot Saturday night.

 Tuts was heading for Loango .

 Shortly after the fast and the fancy fiasco, the old white gent’s wife, standing in his rescue boat started screaming hysterically “A Shark! A Shark! Oh my God, I see a Shark!” Pull my husband out, pull my husband out, pull him out right now!! Oh my GOD! Pull my husband out right now!

Tuts says the poor old gent was utterly dejected as they pulled him up, his bathing suit drooping below his pale old, pink old, shiny old  hiney.

 Next went the dapper sharply outfitted “high color” attorney from the states, who had looked most disdainfully upon our man’s baggy boxers and boney bare feet but was now being dragged, thoroughly defeated, flat on his back from the sea to flat on his back on the bottom of the heaving boat.

 The boats were heaving now because the seas were heaving now, they were coming into “The Big Blue”. A section of the sound a mile or more wide, in which, or perhaps I ought to say, through which, big serioso, fast moving, megalo mountains of Big Blue Heavy Water Waves (Waves of the sort that make you say “Good Lord” or “Mama Mia” or “Holy Freakin’ Toledo” when you first see them even though you (if you have good sense) are looking at them from your perch on the deck of a big passenger ferry, ten or fifteen feet above the water line.

 If you are in the water “down in the hollow” splashing along on your belly and craning your neck up trying to see the top of the wave, you will probably say a lot more than good lord, and if you are Tutsie and your rescue boat is manned by one “Fisherman John” a continental dipso juicehead,  that you helped to drag off the junk heap of life, but now haven’t seen for over  half an hour, most of it will not be printable in a general audience mem.wha? such as this one. But you can believe me when I say, you have probably never heard anything like it.

 Eventually, Tuts discovered that if he swam like crazy faster and faster as he got closer and closer to the top and he could then flip over to his back at just the last second the wave would crest and the curl would break over his shoulders. He could “hang there” for seconds, (perhaps one or two of the longest this side of eternity,) and contemplate his mounting misery and helplessness before having to roll over and slide headfirst down down down, ah..down down down, ah down down down, down. (Knowing that some thing is surely waiting in the “trough” to open its porky yaw and scrape you all along your back, belly and sides as it swallows you whole)

 As I may have mentioned casually a short while ago, this section of the sound was just a splash over a mile or more wide, can you guess how many times your whole life can flash before your eyes before you get completely bored with it?

What you don’t get bored with is the fact that you cannot see either Island or for that matter any thing at all when you are down in the valley, nothing but deep dark blue. So the desperate hope that you might be able to see something, anything, hinting at where you are, (is it Puerto Rico? Is it Berlin?) at the top of the next wave is a powerful draw, and can keep you going for many a repetition.

 One time he did see some thing recognizable back on St.Thomas, it was the two super poles that mark the spot where the undersea cable goes down beneath the sea. way down to the bottom, that’s the bottom way way down in the pitch black darkness beneath his own bottom. Better to see nothing he thought, than things as scary as that.

Pretty soon his primary concern had shifted from monstroso seas, to waves slapping him in the face, slap slap slap slap and he realized that he was in a different kind of swim now, the big blue was behind him, and he was battling offshore currents, lucky he had gone for Loango, because now, in spite of his forward motion he was being swept sideways, southward towards “Stephens Key”, a small flat island outside of  the Bay of Cruz Bay or Cruz Bay Bay, comprende?

Tut knew that if he allowed himself to be swept southward beyond Stephens Key, he would be out in the Anegada Trench, and then as likely as not his rescuers would be the Venezuelan Navy. He determined that he had to get to and make it through the spiffy currents around Stephens Key

If the current was running in his favor it could be a breeze, he was exhausted, but just on the inside of Stephens Key was the outer entrance to Cruz Bay. He was almost, almost there.

Alas, the current was not in his favor (unless he wanted to turn around and “go with the flow” back to the “Cabrita express” and the afore mentioned many points beyond) and this part of the swim took everything but the very best of him. The very best of him was all that kept him kicking; the current was so strong that the surface water was rippling backwards in protest. That’s when the “water under water” is moving too fast for the water “on the water” to keep up, so the surface ripples backwards in tiny little cascades of confusion, all of which seemed to be going right up his nose, and down his throat.

 They say that the children of Africa can’t swim. My friend Tutsie has proved time and again, that that is a racist lie, or put another way, demonstrably untrue. Although it is true that Tutsie’s Mother, Miss Meu, born in Dominica, was one half Carib. And although the present effort of the Carib/Arawak Federation is to dispel the myth (they say) that  King Charles of Spain used to promulgate and excuse the genocide of the indigenous Peoples of the Caribbean, specifically, that the Caribs were so wild and savage that they ate people, there is no question that the Caribs were and are among the toughest of the toughest human beings that have ever lived. So our man, three quarters African, One quarter Carib (with a smitter smatter of  French and, British, both in the African part of the pie) is lying all but dead in the water, having just burst through the impassable current hole at Stephen’s Rock.

 Tuts aka “El Toro” aka “Peperino” aka  Skarpy aka “The Rabbi” (that’s another story) aka a hundred other desperado descriptors, is ready to give it up. If only he had the strength to raise his arm to signal surrender or the voice to beg to be dragged out of the sea, he would have done so. But just then the cheerful voice of Fisherman John came sing-songing across the water, “Make it look pretty Tuts! Make it look pretty! We’re almost there man!, Make it look pretty!!!.

 Some day I’ll build a statue at Cabrita Point to Victor Antonius “Tutsie”  “El Toro” Edwards, one portraying a skinny little mahogany or Brass hued dude in baggy boxers, tilting forward on one leg, the other angled up and out behind, with hands clasped (as in prayer) just above his head, Poised to dive into history.

Tuts became that day the first native Virgin Islander to EVER in all time, swim from St. Thomas to St. John.

 It wasn’t pretty as he crawled and dragged himself ashore (water streaming from every orifice), and it wasn’t pretty as he collapsed on the sand, unable to stand for a full three minutes. But in his defense, he was forty freakin’ years old and working with a body that had been ravaged by drugs and alcohol.

 The kids on the Dolphin swim team have much to be proud of, they did in their wetsuits, fins and organized swim formations, what the rough and tough UDT had given up on, they made the swim.

I know that where ever these kids are in the world, and where ever they will go, they will always remember that “once upon a time, when we were kids in the islands, my friends and me did the impossible together” they will also remember with awe and admiration “that skinny little fellow in the baggy boxer trunks” that did it alone and bare footed, and then, passed on the champagne and praise, because “that’s not why he was there”.

Tutsie made the swim because it was Emancipation Day, and he wanted to demonstrate and celebrate freedom, he wanted to demonstrate freedom from fear of the sea and the ignorant idea that “Black people can’t swim” He wanted to demonstrate that “recovery is macho” and that black people now  need to be emancipated from the chemical slavery that is alcoholism and addiction, and because even though she was long gone, he wanted his mother to know that he could do, what he said he could do, and now it was time to go home… And oh yeah, he did it for Shaky Acres.

Of course we were celebrating Tutsie long before we started Shaky Acres and he swam to St. John. I first recorded “Tutsie” for BANG Records in 1965, (we wore it out on the Juke box at Duffys) and then again for RCA in 1975 as La Biega Carosuel/Tutsie. If you listen closely to this more recent recording (made in St. Thomas in 2005) you’ll hear our friends Jeff Medina, Morgan Rael, Lennie Monsanto, Richard Spencley, Cliff Finch, and Robbie Roberts, strummin’ and bangin’ out the groove and the beautiful “Of GOD” and Mighty Whitey and April Moran on the choruses.

Here’s Tutsie’s song, now a long time hit in The Virgin Islands

Book 1. En Nueva York 57-58 Continued…And Book 4. In Anticipation Of Nicky’s Memorial, July 18th, Magen’s Bay.

July 12, 2010 Leave a comment

Book 1. En Nueva York 57-58 Continued…

It was the time of “Little Bitty Pretty One, “Wake Up Lil’ Susie”, “You Send Me”, “Honey Comb”, “That’ll Be The Day”, “Rockin’ Robin”, Don Larsen’s perfect game, Sputnik, and The Asiatic Flu. All of which made a big and lasting impression on me.

Years later I would spend two weeks in a tour bus with the Great Bobby Day (“Little Bitty Pretty One” and “Rockin’ Robin”) crisscrossing the US from Burlington Iowa, to Daytona Beach Fla, on a tour called the “Thirtieth Anniversary Of Rock N Roll”. Bobby Day was style and grace, talent and kindness personified. He was every bit as smooth, graceful and exciting as his tunes.

 The Everly Brothers big hit “Wake Up Little Susie” was one of, if not the first song in which I was consciously aware of “the writer” inserting a “twist” and intentionally shaping the story line. I had a sort of moment of objective “ah ha” clarity (and believe me it only lasted a moment) before I fell back into full on non-thinking subjective acceptance of the idea that “all the singers were for real, and all their songs were “true for true.”

Years later when my manager Doc Pomus, began teaching me how things really worked i.e. How a song was written, how a session was produced, how a record was made, what a Music Publisher did, how Elvis got co-writing credits on Otis Blackwell’s songs, etc I was quite disappointed and very much upset and disillusioned.

 I much preferred the illusion that the process was somehow magically organic, as if the song “emerged” from the singer while the joy and groove of the moment dictated the arrangement and the music played.

I was really disappointed with the truth. I felt as if something wonderful and life sustaining had been taken away. Of course I can now look back and (in knowledgeable company,) snerk aloud at what a silly and foolish boy I was, but the truth is I am still more he that any completely grown up me.

 The facts are… When I performed (and still when I perform now) the emotion inherent in the moment DID dictate the arrangement (the timing, the rhythm, the dynamics and sometimes even the key) and as far as possible, the song DID emerge Which is why I seem unable to, hardly ever or maybe never play a tune exactly the same way twice.

In my first gig in the states after “getting off the boat” I was singing at a great folk club/coffee house called “The House Of Pegasus” in Fort Lauderdale.

The manager turned to the owner and said”listen he even does his own fade outs”. I remember wondering “why would he mention that?” and then “aren’t we supposed to do that?” that’s how we all did it in the Islands. We didn’t or I didn’t know that fade outs were artificial artifacts of studio recording rather than an expressive and soulful vocally managed dimuendo. Ahh… my dear friends, you could have filled a google parallel universes with what I didn’t know then, and possibly even more with what I don’t know now.

 In any case, and lucky for me, it was a great season for song, Sputnik was the beginning of a painfully long, continuing and essential lesson in humility for “The Otherin” (and me too) and the freakin’ Asiatic Flu did everything but recycle me.

Often the “weakest” or most vulnerable part of the body is the first to go and in my case the weakest link resides in my poor frizzgaggled noggin.

When the fever (any fever) hits or comes upon me, my tenuous grip (on what foolish folk think is the one reality and I recognize as at most a temporary and consensual compromise) slips and I am gone. Replaced by a double babbling babushka balloon head, or “El Exehente Generalissimo Delirioso” aka the rock that wept, or the stone that squeaked and cried. Yezzer, I am vulnerable to fever.

 In those days Gale and I had no beds, we slept instead on folding aluminum lounge chairs, the kind with woven plastic straps across an aluminum frame. When the Asiatic landed in my noggin, I was allowed or encouraged (or a combo of both) to move  my recliner out of a shared bedroom and into a far corner of the living room, a sort of poor man’s quarantine, I s’ppose.

I spent two weeks out there in the ultra nunca never none land of delerioso serioso, babbling soliloquies all day waiting for Mud to come home from work.

 It’s interesting to note that you can pile all the blankets in the world on top of the poor soul trying to sleep on such a device and they don’t and won’t do a bit of good. Until and unless you realize that the cold air is coming up from under, through and between the plastic straps. It’s a pitiful, follyishous thing. I confess that it took me an embarrassingly long and uncomfortable time to figger’ it out.

God Bless Mother, the music in the background and Red Candy Apples (the only thing I would eat) for getting me through.

Interestingly, the Spanish flu epidemic (a related strain of two generations earlier) is what we think killed our people in Scotland, leaving our father Frankie’s Mother Sally, “an orphan girl alone in the world” and encouraging her migration to New York, her career as a tragic bar room singer, the arms of the naughty, cowardly married Irish rascal that knocked her up ah..Ah mean got her with child and then denied the little lad for fear of “The wrath of wife”. Our little orphan girl Grand Mother Sally Travis, Died in turn in the TB wards on Welfare Island at 26, leaving little Frankie all but orphaned himself. Crikey, Yikes! it feels like I’m having a flu-mo delerioso flashboink!

 Yes, It was the winter of our discontent, my poor finger was bent forward and taped to the palm of my hand (if that whompin’ girl had seen me, she would have whupped me silly), Gale, in a flurry of belonging longing or longing to belong, joined a cigarette smoking,  garrison belted, black leather jacketed gang, she was now known by two separate noms de guerre “Mike” and “The Cat” and in a flushed rush of tough teenage solidarity forever, she shaved her eyebrows absolutely and completely, clean off.

Mud was ready to get herself and her sprung off sprung back to the Antilles, The Archipelago, The West Indies, The Islands of The West, The Caribees, The Spanish Main, The Blessed Virgins…Continues…

 Book 4. In Anticipation of Nicky’s Memorial, July 18th, Magen’s Bay.

 I nave been invited to sing at Nicky’s (The Mighty Whitey) memorial scheduled for July the 18th at Magens Bay, in St. Thomas. I am arranging to be there and prepared to sing my heart out. I am so happy that Tuts and Tim and Nicky and I recently took a little trip together up to Jos Van Dyke to see the Fox. We were talking with him and Tessa about doing a three man concert there featuring Ruben, Nicky and Myself. That sadly will never be.

Take a look at “A Little Trip To Jos Van Dyke” and “Continued..A Little Trip To Jos Van Dyke”  (March 2010) In them, I‘ve tried to capture some of what was wonderful about the time together.

Book 4. Continued…A Little Trip To Jos Van Dyke.

March 8, 2010 Leave a comment

Book 4. …Continued, A Little Trip To Jos Van Dyke

The sea breeze is extraordinary; it’s coming down through (Sir Francis) Drake’s Passage and across Pillsbury sound bringing the coolest freshest air imaginable. Its way too easy to forget how good it feels head to toe, body and soul, to sail these waters and to sip this sweet sweet breeze…

Tuts is talking like he’s having a flashback to the swim in which he became the first native Virgin Islander in known history to swim from St. Thomas to St John.

“Look, look” he says, there’s the two poles on St. Thomas that I saw from the tip top of the giant wave, and there is the undersea cables that I told you about! And Look, look how the current is trying to sweep everything southwest; out of the sound and into the sea, “Next stop out dey is New Orleans m’boy, Wha? Not me again meson, not me again!” “But Tuts,” somebody says, “I heah you “fraid!,  an das why yu ain’ gon do it a gain, Yu ‘fraid man, yu ‘fraid! 

“Oy Fraid?” he says indignantly, “Fraid? Who ain’ fraid a out dey, schipid in dey ass! Das right, ah ‘fraid. Me-son, yu don know dey have Shak out here big as de Bismark? Meson, dem shak so big yu cou walk on dey head, yu don know das how I mek it to Sain John?

 Off to the left are the beautiful gold and green islands of Thatch Key, then Congo Key and Louango. We see the remains of the old great house of the plantation on Louango, where the white overseer was killed by the slaves he bossed in the first moments of the St. John uprising of 1733.

Beyond the keys, to the North East is Jos Van Dyke An Island  named after a Dutch Pirate Captain but settled by the Quakers and part of the British Virgins. When the English renounced slavery in 1833,  the land on Jos’ was given to the very people that had been enslaved there.

The Danes abolished slavery in 1849 consequently slaves in St. John were always trying to find their way to Jos Van Dyke and Tortola and freedom.  In fact there is a huge iron sugar cane boiling kettle on the sand in Jos’ that a St. John slave was able put his wife and children into, and  sail (or row) them all to Jos Van Dyke and freedom. The iron kettle was still on the beach, when I first saw it in the sixties.

We slide up to a new concrete wharf and head for the old wooden customs office only,  now it’s a new concrete customs office, where we discover that the gentle portly gentleman who had manned the post since salt met water, had been called away to sing with the angel chorus.

As Delia and the current customs gent negotiated our entrée, I spotted our friend Ruben Chinnery sitting at a table under the trees in front of a little beach side café, We have all known Ruben for at least forty five years, and Tuts and I for closer to fifty, back then,  Tuts and Ruben and I had a little “Band” together, that knocked the living hell out of “Perfidia” I was the Sax man, Tuts played the Trumpet and Ruben strangled the guitar til’ it squeaked for mercy. Good lord we loved to play that song. And nothing but that song.

We have jammed together at Foxy’s many times since then, and we are here today to see about setting up a gig in which Ruben, Nicky, (Mighty Whitey) and I would be playing together all day long (maybe three sets each and one or two super long jams)

After speaking with Tessa and The Fox, it’s on. We will decide on the date at a future time. That done, we socialize… hug and smooch and then…we head back down the sound (Pillsbury Sound).

Between little St. James and the entrance to the Lagoon, Timmy (the Captain of the little ship) cuts the engine and announces that we aren’t going any further until he hears a few specific tunes. The mighty fine fellow hands me my guitar and says “The first one is “Mademoiselle”. 

 The boat is rocking like crazy and I am sitting on the roof of the cabin, so I jam a foot against a stanchion and the other against the life lines and, once properly “jammed”, I sing my friggin’ heart out. It isn’t everyday that tough, and weathered, beaten but not bowed, hombres honor me in this way. I am really touched that my lifelong tough guy compadres feel this way about my music, and I will fall overboard and drown, guitar and all before I will disappoint them. 

Mademoiselle

When will I see your garden mademoiselle?

The garden we spoke of that I love so well

Orchids and roses, my favorite smell

Take me you told me you promised,

and I’ll never tell

Take me and show me your garden, Mademoiselle

I know there are kings and princes, they line at your gate

But I love you more than they, let them wait

Orchids and roses, would ease all my hate

Take me you told me you promised,

Before it’s too late

Take me and show me your garden, Mademoiselle

And now we must stop pretending, Mademoiselle

Your garden is choking, your blossoms all fell

Orchids and roses are a funeral smell

Your rouge and your perfumes too heavy,

like the stories I tell

They’re ringing the bells and I’m sorry, Mademoiselle

We’ve got nothing to sell and I’m sorry Mademoiselle…

“Ok, Now, South Atlantic Blues” says the Captain

South Atlantic Blues

 You know the Islands are the perfect place for going away

Life’s so easy there you live from day to day to day to day

 The father of missions, he once walked proud and tall

He must had seen too many Christians, cause now he’s very small

The poor man’s got no Gods at all

Not counting alcohol, not counting alcohol

 You say that’s dues, I’ve got news for you

It’s South Atlantic Blues, South Atlantic Blues

 She lives in the alley, the hope gone from her eyes

Her dress is torn and dirty, loving lips are cracked and dried

She sits and cries, my life’s a lie

Her children think she’s died, her children think she’s died

You say that’s dues, I’ve got news for you

It’s South Atlantic Blues, South Atlantic Blues

 She stands by the seaside, my love, she waits for me

And I can’t help her as she wonders, how long will it be

I told her once, we would be free, from Charlotte Amalie

Charlotte Amalie, Charlotte Amalie Charlotte Amalie

 You say that’s dues, I’ve got news for you

It’s South Atlantic Blues, South Atlantic Blues

You know the Islands are the perfect place for going away

Life’s so easy there you live from day to day to day to day

day to day to day to day…

Then Mighty Whitey asks me to play “Where My Lover Has Gone” his dear departed Mudder dear’s favorite song,

Where My Lover Has Gone

 

Morning comes down very heavy on me

Nothing at all like a new day should be

This morning saves its glory, for someone in another story

Somewhere a song, where my lover has gone

 There’s no glad surprise for these sad eyes to see

No trace of the grace that her face had for me

These grey skies have no rainbow, cause rainbows are where ever she goes

Somewhere a song where my lover has gone

 Somewhere the sun is shining, good old time silver lining

Somewhere a song, where my lover has gone

 Morning comes down very heavy on me

Nothing at all like a new day should be

This morning saves its glory, for someone in another story

Somewhere a song, where my lover has gone

Where my lover has gone, where my lover has gone…

 Now, says the Captain, Now lets have Captain Creole!

CAPTAIN CREOLE

The word spread through The Virgins, the Old Creole was dead

He died in the night of the full moon light, in a swordfight, in his bed

Some say he was crazy, he had a rum dream in his head

But I will tell you, in his words, what Captain Creole said…

 He said “Old Pirates never die dry your eyes we don’t ever die

Old Pirates never die, they just sail away”

The Dancing Senioritas, the Ghosts of Buried Gold

The German and The African, that battled in his soul

The Jolly Jolly Rodger, The Treasure Ships of Spain

Called out to him and bid him come… back to The Spanish Main

Because “Old Pirates never die, dry your eyes they don’t ever die

Old Pirates never die, they just sail away”

 The word spread through The Virgins, Like the ringing of an old ships bell

The Preacher turned to Heaven, most folks bet on Hell

The Old Creole was sinking, the Old Creole was gone

And we cried in the light of the full moon night, Whispering his song

 He said “Old Pirates never die, dry your eyes we don’t ever die

Old Pirates never die, they just sail away”

 Old Pirates never die; dry your eyes we don’t ever die

Old Pirates never die, they just sail away”

  “Ok Thank” you says Captain Timmy as he starts the engine, “now take us home with La Beiga/Tuts

La Beiga Carousel/ Tutsie

Man I would walk and drink rum de whole night,

before me go ride on La Beiga Carousel?

Man I would walk and drink rum de whole night,

before me go ride on La Beiga Carousel

Come go home come go home Cecebelle,

tonight we’ain gon ride on La Beiga Carousel

Come go home come go home Cecebelle,

tonight we’ain gon ride on La Beiga Carousel

And a skinny little fellow looks a little bit like me,

Lives on an Island in the Caribbean sea

And he drinks straight cane rum from an old calabash

And with those Island girls, lord he really is a smash

And he lives off the tourists with the greatest of ease,

Why I’ve even seen him selling bags of cool Island breeze

He lives high on a mountain in an old sugar mill

He wants to be a Pirate, I know someday he will.

An’ I’ll walk and drink rum whole night,

before me go ride on Labeiga Carousel

Man I’ll walk and drink rum whole night,

before me go ride on Labeiga Carousel

 And he spends all his days cooling out in Trader Dan’s,

There’s no time for working in my friend Tutsie’s plans

He wears a pretty flower tucked up in an old straw hat

But if you should try to fight him, he’d show you where it’s at.

 And he lives off the tourists with the greatest of ease,

Why I’ve even seen him selling bags of cool Island breeze

He lives high on a mountain in an old sugar mill

He wants to be a Pirate, I know someday he will.

 An’ I’ll walk and drink rum whole night,

before me go ride on Labeiga Carousel

Man I’ll walk and drink rum whole night,

before me go ride on Labeiga Carousel

 And I wish I were like Tutsie and could do as I please,

then I’d be barefoot at the Foxes’ Tamarindo

And I’d drink straight cane rum from an old calabash

And with those Island girls, lord, I’d really be a smash

 And I’d live off the tourists with the greatest of ease,

And have fun selling bags of cool Island breeze

I’d live high on a mountain in an old sugar mill

And someday I’d be a Pirate, you know someday I will.

Man I would walk and drink rum de whole night,

before me go ride on La Beiga Carousel

Man I would walk and drink rum de whole night,

before me go ride on La Beiga Carousel

Come go home come go home Cecebelle,

tonight we’ain gon ride on La Beiga Carousel

Come go home come go home Cecebelle,

tonight we’ain gon ride on La Beiga Carousel

We all knew the song (in fact Nicky (Mighty Whitey) is in the chorus of the recording posted here) and we all  sang one rousing chorus after another of it, until we reached the dock.

 What a time we had. Not riotous or raucus or excessivly rambunctious (as was out wont in the past), but one filled with laughter and honest strong emotion, in the most beautiful settings in the world, Drakes Passage, Pillsbury Sound and the warm embrace of a small circle of friends.

 All Words and Music Scott Fagan, Copyright, Scott Fagan Music ASCAP

“Sandy The Bluenosed Reindeer” A Little Christmas Operetta!

November 25, 2009 Leave a comment

Sandy The Bluenosed Reindeer
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I will be in a small sailing boat called “Stargazer” with Tuts, Captain Timmy Carstephen, Nicky “Mighty Whitey” Russel and The “First lady of ALL The Virgins” The Good Lady Delia. We will be on our way to spend the day with our old friend “Sir Foxy”, (recently Knighted by The Queen Of England, honest) in Jos Van Dyke, in the British Virgin Islands.

As Thanksgiving is the traditional start of the “Christmas Music Season” and because I am a sentimental fellow who really loves Christmas and further because a little sprite of a spirit did entrust me with the responsibility for bringing her story to you,) Here is “Sandy The Bluenosed Reindeer” (A little Christmas Operetta) (Both Music and Script) I sincerely hope that you and your little ones will enjoy “Sandy The Bluenosed Reindeer” for many many years to come. Here is the Music “Sandy The Bluenosed Reindeer” with The Script below. P.S. The young lady singing “Island In The Rainbows” is Tasha McCauley. Unbeleivably, she was only 10 years old at the time. Enjoy!

A Christmas Present for Santa
The story of
“Sandy The BlueNosed Reindeer”A Musical in One or Two Acts
by
Scott Fagan

. All Rights Reserved.
Scott Fagan Music ASCAP
St. Thomas, Virgin Islands
scottfagan@lilfishrecords.com

SANDY THE BLUENOSED REINDEER
RUNNING TIME:
29:11 Minutes (Approximately 40 Minutes with 10 minute Intermission)

Synopsis
A Warm and humorous musical story about a little female reindeer sent to the North pole as a Christmas present for Santa, one Christmas eve a time ago, by the Girls and Boys in the home for almost forgotten children some where in the tropical Islands…

Sandy has been sent to Santa to help him with his warm weather routes, but she will have an awful lot of shiverin’ and shakin’ to do and an awful lot of wondering where she fits in, before anyone discovers the purpose and true value of this extraordinary Christmas present for Santa.

In the end, Sandy leads for Santa when it’s time to go any where around the world that it doesn’t snow, and becomes the perennial favorite of (and there’s an awful lot of) places in the world where all the Christmas’s are hot!

ACT ONE………………………Christmas Eve, a time ago

ACT TWO……………………….As time passed

CAST OF CHARACTERS

THE NARRATOR (A colorful Tropical Island character, male or female)

SANDY THE BLUE NOSED REINDEER A young and very simpatico female Reindeer, with a Blue nose. She will progress in age from Baby to pre-teen.

SANTA CLAUS A right Jolly old Elf.

MIZ CLAUS A warm, maternal and practical Elf lady

THE CHORUS (As many as you like, they will double as…)

THE GIRLS AND BOYS (In the Home for almost forgotten Children)

SANTA’S ELVES (Lefty, Righty, Blackie and Whitey, Brownie, Yellow, Shorty and Longfellow

SANTA’S REINDEER (Dasher, Dancer, Prancer and Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen

SANDY THE BLUENOSED REINDEER

ACT 1.
SCENES

1. Opening scene The Narrator – Now you’ve asked me to…
2. The Home for almost forgotten children somewhere in the Tropical Islands
3. That ‘ol Pelican Pilot
4. When she woke up it was cold and dark
5. My name is Sandy and I’m Cold!
6. This looks like a job for Santa!
7. So Santa and his Reindeer got something that Christmas they didn’t really want
8. Sometimes somethings

ACT. 2.
SCENES

1. Now remember it was Christmas Eve
2. Everyone loves Toys Toys Toys
3. Once Santa had wrapped his wonderful warm arms around her
4. So Santa had to…
5. As time passed…(Island in the Rainbows)
6. Santa and his crew knew exactly what to do. (Sing a Happy song).
7. It was HOT!
8. The Narrator to finale
9. Curtain Call and…
10. Merry Christmas all over the World

SET LIST

Narrator’s backdrop
The Home for almost forgotten children
Sweet Green Islands in the Beautiful Blue sea.
The North Pole
Santas’s Workshop
Santa’s Sleigh
In the West Indie

SANDY THE BLUE NOSED REINDEER

The Songs:

1. THEME Sandy the Blue Nosed Reindeer
2. A Christmas Present for Santa
3. Sometimes Somethings
4. Lefty Righty
5. Toys toys toys
6. Island in the Rainbows
7. Sing a Happy Song
8. THEME (Reprise) Sandy The Bluenosed Reindeer
9. Merry Christmas All Over The World

AUTHORS NOTE:
I would place The Chorus on stage and utilize parents, teachers or other interested adults in The Chorus as desired. The “magical transformation” from chorus singer to costumed character (when doubling) may add to the fun if it occurs in view of the audience
My staging suggestion is simple, have fun and lots of it!
Merry Christmas!

SANDY THE BLUENOSED REINDEER

Act One
SONG # 1 SANDY THE BLUENOSED REINDEER
(Sung By Chorus, as stage is being set, and lights slowly come up)

CHORUS: And now they’ve made a place for her…
in Reindeer history too…

We’ve all heard of Rudolph, who’s nose was shiny bright
and how he guided Santa’s sleigh through the foggy night
But there’s a little Reindeer who’s nose is icy blue
and now they’ve made a place for her in Reindeer history too.

Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told
Cause who’d believe a Reindeer didn’t like the cold
Who believes in Reindeer who’s little noses freeze
Shivering and shaking and knocking at the knees.

Then one night it happened down in Port of Spain
the other Reindeer got so hot they started to complain
“Let me help you Santa” her voice was sure and strong
and that’s how Sandy found her way into a Christmas song

Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told
Cause who’d believe a Reindeer didn’t like the cold
Who believes in Reindeer who’s little noses freeze
Shivering and shaking and knocking at the knees.

Now Sandy leads for Santa, when it’s time to go
Any where around the world that it doesn’t snow
The Boys and Girls all love her y’know. there’s an awful lot
of places in the world where all the Christmas’s are hot

Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told
Cause who’d believe a Reindeer didn’t like the cold
Who’d believe a Reindeer who’s nose was icy blue
but now they’ve made a place for her in Reindeer history too…
.

Lights come up to reveal THE NARRATOR (Male or Female, characteristics are optional)
THE NARRATOR walks to the front of the stage and speaks directly to the audience.

NARRATOR: Now you’ve asked me to tell you the story of Sandy the Bluenosed Reindeer
and I will …But I’m thinking.. you could also call this story “A Christmas Present for Santa”
Cause she was sent to Santa one Christmas a time ago, by the Girls and Boys in the home for almost forgotten Children, Somewhere in the Tropical Islands.
HOME FOR ALMOST FORGOTTEN CHILDREN, SOME WHERE IN THE TROPICAL ISLANDS ( It’s Christmas Eve and a ragged but cheerful group of Girls and Boys are lovingly brushing and grooming a little Blue Nosed Reindeer, they decorate her with ribbons and bows as they sing.)

SONG #2 “A CHRISTMAS PRESENT FOR SANTA”

GIRLS AND BOYS: (Alternating lines)
All Because we’ve heard it’s better to give than to receive
Girls Because you never ask for much , except that we believe
All Because you’re such a good soul, and Jolly Jolly too
Girls Because we think that you love us as much as we love you

Boys Because you’re always giving and never never take
All except sometimes a little milk some cookies or some cake
Girls Because she’s so so special,
Boys because it’s Christmas eve
All Because a million times because, Merry Christmas Santa Claus

Girls Up in the sky with his flying Reindeer
Boys Going loop de loop like he doesn’t know fear
Girls Who is the man made of so much fun
Boys He’s willing to share his joy with everyone

UNISON:
Santa it’s you so we thought we would
Send you a present cause you’ve been so good
Kindly and gentle and dear old man, We know you’ll understand

COUNTERPOINT SECTION:
Boys Because we’ve heard it’s better. to give than to receive
Girls Who do we don’t see to say thank you to

Boys Because you never ask for much , except that we believe
Girls Who’s like a dream in a dream that comes true

Boys Because you’re such a good soul, and Jolly Jolly too
Girls Racing the sun to a million places

Boys Because we think that you love us as much as we love you
Girls In every one leaving smiling faces

Boys Because you’re always giving and never never take
Girls Driving a sleigh that no jet is faster

Boys except sometimes a little milk some cookies or some cake
Girls First to get through natural disaster

Boys Because she’s so so special, because it’s Christmas eve
Girls Braving the coldest and hottest weather

Boys Because a million times because, Merry Christmas Santa Claus
Girls Who tries to keep the whole thing together

UNISON:
We’ve sent a Reindeer who’s nose is blue
because we believe she’ll be a help to you
Kindly and gentle and dear old man
we know you’ll understand.

Because a Million times because…
Merry Christmas Santa Clause

NARRATOR: I can just see that old airmail Pelican flying along with his little bundle, wriggling and rolling over to her tummy, foots sticking out front and back, kicking and learning to fly. Foots up, foots down, foots up, foots down, just like you do when you’re learning to swing in the beginning. Foots up, foots down, foots up, can you see her? She’s doing fine… flying along nice and easy and the warm sun shining down on her such a rich chocolate-brown. Shining down on those coconut trees and those sweet green Islands in the beautiful blue sea, just the color of Sandy’s nose.
Like I said I don’t know exactly where they were coming from, but they were going along in the warm for quite some while, and that little Reindeer was kicking foots as strong and as smooth as could be maybe even giving that old Pelican Pilot a rest now and then. Foots up, foots down, foots up.

CHORUS: Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told cause who’d believe a Reindeer didn’t like the cold
who believes in Reindeer who’s little noses freeze, Shivering and shaking and knocking at the knees

NARRATOR: Y’know, It’s a big and a wide wide world that we live in, and after a time that little Reindeer curled up in her little bundle and took a nap. Just like you little critters do. Maybe she knew where she was going and dreamed a dream or maybe not. I don’t know, but I do know she didn’t know it was going to be cold where she was going, and I do know she didn’t know it would be dark, and that’s just what it was, when she woke up it was cold and dark and she was scared too! Now there’s those Northern lights up there and they light up the sky kind of like a cosmic rainbow so it wasn’t too dark but there’s no electric heaters in the snow

CHORUS: (Comes up under NARRATOR)

Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told

NARRATOR: (Continues)
and no radiators around the North Pole, so it was cold

Cause who’d believe a Reindeer

and she was shivering and shaking and knocking at the knees

Didn’t like the cold

and if her nose was Blue before,

Who believes in Reindeer

boy, you shoulda’ seen it now

Who’s little noses freeze

That’s just how the other Reindeer first saw her

Shivering and shaking

Standing in the snow, shivering and shaking and knocking like a clock

and knocking at the knees

Her nose was the color of a blueberry popsicle.

DASHER AND DANCER, DONNER AND BLITZEN:
Jumping Jet planes!!

NARRATOR: They said.

COMET AND CUPID AND PRANCER AND VIXEN:
Look at this one, we don’t believe it.

DASHER AND DANCER, DONNER AND BLITZEN, COMET AND CUPID AND PRANCER AND VIXEN:
This looks like a job for Santa!

CHORUS:
Who believes in Reindeer, who’s little noses freeze,
Shivering and shaking and knocking at the knees

NARRATOR: So BLITZEN zoomed over to Santa’s house and got him!

SANTA: Jumping jet planes!

NARRATOR: Said Santa.

MIZ CLAUS: Oh Santa!

NARRATOR: Said Miz CLAUS

SANTA: I don’t remember asking for a Bluenosed Reindeer

NARRATOR: Said Santa

SANTA: I’ve never even heard of a Bluenosed Reindeer

DASHER AND DANCER, DONNER AND BLITZEN, COMET AND CUPID AND PRANCER AND VIXEN:We’ve never heard of a Bluenosed Reindeer either

NARRATOR: Said the other Reindeer

SANTA: Who ever heard of a Bluenosed Reindeer?

DASHER AND DANCER, DONNER AND BLITZEN, COMET AND CUPID AND PRANCER AND VIXEN: We all know the Red nosed one

SANTA: But a Blue nosed one?

DASHER AND DANCER, DONNER AND BLITZEN, COMET AND CUPID AND PRANCER AND VIXEN: No!

MIZ CLAUS: Never!

SANTA, MIZ CLAUS AND THE REINDEER: None!

SANDY: (In a trembly little voice) My name is SANDY, an.. I’m Cold!

NARRATOR: Said the mizzable little critter

SANTA: Swooping satellites!

NARRATOR: Said Santa

SANTA: Who ever heard of a Reindeer that didn’t like the cold? I didn’t ask for a Reindeer that didn’t like the cold…

MIZ CLAUS: Santa , she’s cold

NARRATOR: Said Miz Claus

MIZ CLAUS: And her little nose is Blue, she’s shivering and shaking and knocking at the knees. What are we gonna’ do?

SANTA: Let’s take her in the house!

NARRATOR: Said Santa Claus

MIZ CLAUS: Poor little shivery shaking Bluenosed thing…

NARRATOR: Said Miz Claus.

CHORUS: (In background) Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told

DASHER AND DASHER AND PRANCER AND VIXEN: Did you see that?

CHORUS: Cause who’d believe a Reindeer

NARRATOR : Said DASHER AND DASHER AND PRANCER AND VIXEN

CHORUS: Didn’t like the cold

COMET AND CUPID AND DONNER AND BLITZEN: Santa didn’t ask for a Bluenosed Reindeer that doesn’t like the cold!

CHORUS: Who believes in Reindeer who’s little noses freeze

COMET AND CUPID AND DONNER AND BLITZEN: We wanted some rocket packs!

NARRATOR : Said COMET AND CUPID AND DONNER AND BLITZEN

CHORUS: Shivering and shaking

DASHER AND DASHER AND PRANCER AND VIXEN: Say, where’d she come from anyway.

CHORUS: and knocking at the knees

NARRATOR : So Santa and his Reindeer got something that Christmas they hadn’t asked for, maybe didn’t really want, and sure didn’t think they’d ever need. That’s how it is sometimes, we don’t get what we want but we do get what we need, and don’t even know it. It happens to me ,
I’ll bet it happens to you too… sometimes.

SONG #3 SOMETIMES SOMETHINGS (Sung by Narrator)

Sometimes something happens in a funny way
something we think shouldn’t happen anyway
Sometimes something happens that we didn’t plan
Something sometimes that we barely understand

Sometimes it won’t help something to try and guess
Somethings we know sometimes happen for the best.

Sometimes something hides the sun and clouds the sky
Something passing as we let sometime go by
Sometimes something disappoints us bringing pain
Rainbows wouldn’t happen if it didn’t rain
Sometimes something happens to us we forget
Something sometimes we don’t know the good part yet.

End Act One

Act Two

NARRATOR: Now remember it was Christmas Eve, and Santa and Miz Claus and all of Santa’s reindeer and helpers and all of Santa’s friends, had quite a bit to do…

SONG # 4 LEFTY RIGHTY BLACKIE AND WHITEY (Sung by Santa and his Elves)

SANTA: Lefty Righty Blackie and Whitey

ELVES: Working together with Santa Clause

SANTA: Brownie Yellow Shorty and Longfellow

ELVES: Working together well just because

SANTA: They want to show it can be done

SANTA AND ELVES: Working together’s lots of fun

ELVES: Lefty Righty Blackie and Whitey

SANTA: If little elves can do it so can we

ELVES: Brownie Yellow Shorty and Longfellow

SANTA AND ELVES: Everybody’s one big family

SONG # 5 TOYS TOYS TOYS (Sung by Santa’s Elves)

Toys toys toys toys – toys toys toys toys
Every one loves toys toys toys

Way up here in Santa’s shop, when we start we never stop
Cause every toy’s a thing of joy and every body wants a toy
Arche wants an aeroplane, Billy wants a ‘’lectric train
Carrie wants more Star Wars stuff, Children just can’t get enough
Toys toys toys toys, Every one loves toys toys toys

Drucie wants a doll that walks, Ellie wants a doll that talks
Frankie wants a baseball bat, Sister Gale a football hat
Holly wants a new doll house, Izzy wants a rubber mouse
Jamesy wants a teddy bear, Katie wants a game that’s fair!

Imagine a world without toys, An awf-’ly boring place
not much fun for girls and boys
But don’t be sad cause it’s ok There’s something we could do about it
everybody sing and shout it! Toys..

LITTLEST ELF: (Just learning his manners yells to the others) Hey! Shouting’s not polite

dont’cha know that?

SANTA: Hmm… Ok then every body sing! Toys toys toys toys, all we want is toys toys toys.

Way up here in Santa’s shop, when we start we never stop
Cause every toy’s a thing of joy and every body wants a toy
Lele wants a two wheel trike, Maggie wants a three wheel bike
Nattie wants and ice cream truck, Orvil wants an Easter duck
Poonah wants a boxing glove Queenie wants a fish to love Roscoe wants a jumping rope, Sarah wants a microscope
Tito wants a frog that sings, Uta wants a magic ring
Virgil wants an oogie board, Wanda wants a pirate sword
Xosa wants a kite that hums, Yone wants a kettle drum
Ziggy wants a cash machine, a racehorse and a Limousine

SANTA: (Looking perplexed) A cash machine? a racehorse? a Limousine?

ElVES : Toys toys toys toys – toys toys toys toys
Every one loves toys toys toys!

NARRATOR: Now once Santa had wrapped his wonderful warm arms around her,
Sandy wouldn’t let him put her down for anything. So Santa had to
check all his lists, get his Reindeer reined,
Pack up his sleigh, thank all his helpers,
give Miz Clause her see you later kiss and take off.. With a baby bluenosed Reindeer in his arms.
Then he had to, drive his sleigh, carry his bag
climb down chimneys, fill stockings, sort and set out presents,
eat his cookies, sip his cocoa and get back up chimneys with a baby bluenosed Reindeer in his arms. If you saw Santa that Christmas you know that one Christmas a time ago, he had a baby bluenosed Reindeer in his arm when he came to your house.

CHORUS: (In background) Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told
Cause who’d believe a Reindeer… didn’t like the cold

NARRATOR: As time passed. nobody knew what in the world Sandy was doing up at Santa’s workshop. She wanted to be wanted but what good could she really do? Shiverin’ and shakin’ and knocking little Elves off of shelves and all, wherd’d she fit in? It looked like every thing she did was wrong.

SONG # 6 ISLAND IN THE RAINBOWS (Sung by Sandy and Santa)

SANDY:
There’s a place that I know
that I sure wish I could go
Far away, it’s an Island in the Rainbows
Somewhere far across the sea
I can hear it calling me
But I can”t go it’s an Island in the Rainbow
Rainbow days… far away,
Green and Gold and Purple too
Rosy Red, Yellow and Blue

SANTA: How I wish that I knew it were true

SANDY AND SANTA: Maybe someday you and me
we could fly across the sea
see if there could be
an Island in the Rainbows

SANDY: Rainbow days… far away,
Green and Gold and Purple too
Rosy Red, Yellow and Blue
I wish I could show it to you

SANDY AND SANTA: Maybe someday you and me
we could fly across the sea
see if there could be
an Island in the Rainbows…

NARRATOR: She sure was feeling bad , but Santa and his crew knew exactly what to do!

SONG #7 SING A HAPPY SONG (Santa, Miz Claus all the Reindeer and Elves and Joined by Sandy at the end)

I’ve got a secret that I’ll share with you
because it’s something that we all can do
when I’ve got troubles and my world is blue
I just sing a happy song.

Sing a happy song, then things won’t seem so wrong
sing a happy song
Sing a happy song, the world will sing along sing
a happy song

Great grand father’s bedroom drapes were drawn,
we thought for sure the dear old boy was gone,
but just as Grandma sighed “Poor Grandpa’s died
he cried… Sing a happy song!
SANTA: All together now!
Sing a happy song, one I can sing along
sing a happy song
Sing a happy song,then things won’t seem so wrong
sing a happy song

( INSTRUMENTAL DANCE SECTION (Everyone))

SANTA: And a one and a two and a three.Everybody
Sing a happy song, then things won’t seem so wrong
sing a happy song
Sing a happy song, the world will sing along
sing a happy song…

NARRATOR: By the next year Sandy’d gotten too big to carry all the time just like you have, but she still went everywhere that Santa did, so naturally she jumped shiverin’ and shakin’ right into Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve and off they went, and the further south they went the less and less she shivered, and the more warm it became the less and less she shook, and by the time they got to Port of Spain, Trinidad, in the West Indies , it was hot!

DASHER, DANCER PRANCER AND VIXEN: SHEEEESHHH!

NARRATOR: Said DASHER, DANCER PRANCER AND VIXEN.

COMET, CUPID, DONNER AND BLITZEN: We’re worn out, we can’t go another step!

NARRATOR: Said COMET, CUPID, DONNER AND BLITZEN.

SANDY: (With Chorus) Let me help you Santa.

NARRATOR: (With Chorus) Her voice was sure and strong

SANTA: Jumping Jet planes!

NARRATOR: Said Santa

SANTA: Now I know where you belong!

NARRATOR WITH OS CHORUS:
Now Sandy leads for Santa when it’s time to go
any where around the world that it doesn’t snow

NARRATOR: (With CHORUS under) And the other Reindeer love her cause
there’s an awful lot of Reindeer that get tired when the goings gotten hot!

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) Sandy is the Reindeer whose story’s never told

NARRATOR: Y’know sometimes if we have a hard time when we’re little

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) Cause who’d believe a Reindeer didn’t like the cold

NARRATOR: It helps us to understand when others are having a hard time too, and then
maybe we can help them

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) Who believes in Reindeer

NARRATOR: That’s how Sandy is,

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) who’s little noses freeze.

NARRATOR: She knows how it feels to be cold and scared and lonely

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) shiverin’ and shakin’ and knocking at the knees

NARRATOR: and it makes her feel real good to help Santa bring happiness and joy

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) Sandy is the Reindeer

NARRATOR: to girls and boys all around the world

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) who’s story’s never told

NARRATOR: big girls and boys too!

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) Cause who’d believe a reindeer

NARRATOR: Santa doesn’t forget us just because we grow up you know.

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) didn’t like the cold

NARRATOR: So Sandy turned out to be

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) Who’d believe a Reindeer

NARRATOR: a wonderful Christmas present for Santa ,

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) who’s nose was icy Blue

NARRATOR: he didn’t know he wanted, NARRATOR:but he’s really glad he got

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) But now they’ve made a place for her

NARRATOR: Sandy the Bluenosed reindeer

CHORUS: (Under NARRATOR) In Reindeer….

NARRATOR: who’s happy when it’s hot!

CHORUS: (Up for big ending) history too…….

NARRATOR: I wonder how they knew Santa needed a Bluenosed Reindeer anyway…

SONG #8 REPRISE (repeat) THEME: SANDY THE BLUE NOSED REINDEER

We’ve all heard of Rudolph, who’s nose was shiny bright
and how he guided Santa’s sleigh through the foggy night
But there’s a little Reindeer who’s nose is icy blue
and now they’ve made a place for her in Reindeer history too.

Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told
Cause who’d believe a Reindeer didn’t like the cold
Who believes in Reindeer who’s little noses freeze
Shivering and shaking and knocking at the knees.

Then one night it happened down in Port of Spain
the other Reindeer got so hot they started to complain
“Let me help you Santa” her voice was sure and strong
and that’s how Sandy found her way into a Christmas song

Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told
Cause who’d believe a Reindeer didn’t like the cold
Who believes in Reindeer who’s little noses freeze
Shivering and shaking and knocking at the knees.

Now Sandy leads for Santa, when it’s time to go
Any where around the world that it doesn’t snow
The Boys and Girls all love her y’know. there’s an awful lot
of places in the world where all the Christmas’s are hot

Sandy is the Reindeer who’s story’s never told
Cause who’d believe a Reindeer didn’t like the cold
Who’d believe a Reindeer who’s nose was icy blue
but now they’ve made a place for her in Reindeer history too…

Curtain Calls
OPTIONAL

NARRATOR: (to audience) And now here’s a Christmas Present for you!

SONG # 9 ENTIRE CAST:

MERRY CHRISTMAS ALL OVER THE WORLD

Merry Christmas all over the world
(Christmas time Christmas Time)
Yes it’s Christmas all over the world
North and South (night so different from the rest)
East and west (special night we love the best)

CHORUS: Ahh – ahhh – ahhh – ahhh – ahhh
SPOKEN: Gladelig Jul, Feliz Navidad, Joy-ah Noel

CHORUS: Ahh – ahhh – ahhh – ahhh – ahhh
SPOKEN:Sheng tang qui-lo, Bon Natale, Jeradvum Kristnovum

CHORUS: Merry Christmas all over the world
SPOKEN: In every corner of the Earth, Man celebrates a child’s birth

CHORUS: Christmas time, Christmas time
SPOKEN: and sings the heart of human kind, and shines the light of love divine

CHORUS: Yes it’s Christmas all over the world
SPOKEN: That the children who are the children who were and the children who will be

CHORUS: Christmas time, Christmas time
SPOKEN: Forever have in memory this magical miracle night so good that is peace and love and brother hood

CHORUS: Merry Christmas all over the world
Christmas time, Christmas time
Yes it’s Christmas all over the world
Every where the soft wind blows, every where that Jack Frost goes

CHORUS: Ahh – ahhh – ahhh – ahhh – ahhh
SPOKEN: Fraulacht Wil-nachten, Bly-gee Kirstdagen, Meli Kalekemaka

CHORUS: Ahh – ahhh – ahhh – ahhh – ahhh
SPOKEN: Hari Natal, Gaha Christnasto, Tanoshee Karitsumasi

CHORUS: Merry Christmas all over the world
SPOKEN: Faraha Malingi Karitmasi

CHORUS: Merry Christmas all over the world…
SPOKEN: Mara-id al-mi-lad, Alice Changa mi lad ha note sri..

SPOKEN: (All) Merry Christmas…We love you Santa!

The End

If you are interested, you will find individual MP3’s for the individual songs, at http://www.lilfishrecords.com