Beyond a Snowy Path – Dasher’s Dash

Adrian Gibb

 

Down a misty lane, and beyond a snowy path
Stands a thatched cottage with a woman at the hearth.
Her name is Sister Mary, for she chose to be a nun
And she sits by a roaring fire with a cat upon her tum…

I sat with eager anticipation as the tree lights began to play
Waiting for the story I would hear as sure as day.
For each and every Christmas I would sit in this big chair
And listen to Sister Mary’s tales without a care…

I wonder if you know, she said, or even if you care
How the famous Christmas reindeer shoot up into the air?
It’s a tale of pure magic, though it comes a quite a cost
For the very thing that makes them fly almost got one lost!

You see Santa has a powder, a magic dust if you will
And every year on Christmas Eve he uses up his fill.
On each and every reindeer he sprinkles upon their back
Just enough, not too much, to lift his sleigh and sack.

His team lift off and start to fly, on a whirlwind Christmas Eve
Until, after many miles and smiles, they take a small reprieve.
For after they have finished rewarding ‘good for goodness sake’
They set down in Australia, and take a little break!

Always in Tasmania do they drink and rest their feet
And ready themselves for the journey home, their holy task complete.
Hidden in the wilderness, quite close to Cradle Valley
Santa has a sandwich while the reindeer dilly dally.

While Dasher was drinking, one year, at the beautiful Dove Lake
Due to tiredness and great haste, Santa made a mistake.
He summoned up his sleigh team with a whistle they can hear
But Dasher was too far away and simply did not hear!

So when he got back to the place where he knew the sleigh had been
He couldn’t believe his reindeer eyes, it must surely be a dream!
The entire place was empty, apart from some obvious proof
That the Santa sleigh had been there, some prints of reindeer hoof.

Now Dasher was quite angry with Santa Claus just then
He couldn’t believe he’d been left behind, especially by a friend.
He stomped and huffed and puffed and cried for quite some time
Until he realised, despite it all, Dasher would be just fine.

For though the sleigh and Santa were gone, and he was all alone
There was nothing to stop him lifting up and finding his own way home.
So he backed up a little way and raised his bottom towards the sky
And charged straight ahead into a tree, for Dasher couldn’t fly!

While he had been jumping and stomping and causing such a fuss
The power of flight had disappeared along with the magical dust.
But Dasher couldn’t be scared for long, for just at that point in time
He heard some voices and heavy footsteps, coming from behind.

With all his might and in his fright, he ran as fast as he could
And that was very fast indeed, as one called Dasher should!
He couldn’t hear the steps anymore and his heart it leapt with joy
Until he ran, with all of his strength, into a little boy.

His name was Hamish, small and cute, with curls upon his head
“Wow, that was great, you are so fast,” was all that Hamish said.
Dasher puffed up his chest with pride, now he knew the boy wasn’t hurt
And waited for Hamish’s daddy to arrive, in shorts and a Christmas shirt.

“He is very fast,” his daddy said. “And I know this sounds quite rash.
But what do you say, on Boxing Day, we enter him in the Dash?”
“I don’t know if he wants to,” Hamish quickly said
But Dasher, with nowhere to go and nothing to do, quickly nodded his head.

So to Hobart Town they all went, arriving close to dawn
And entered Dasher in the famous Dash, run in the early morn.
The other horses all looked at Dasher, with Hamish up on his back
And chortled, snuffled and whinnied, as they lined up on the track.

But Dasher had some news for them, and won the race with ease
And Hamish, his daddy and Dasher, they couldn’t have been more pleased.
“We can race him all over Australia, even the Melbourne Cup!”
Said an excited daddy to Hamish, as eager as a pup.

But Hamish wasn’t listening, at least not to his dad
His head was on Dasher’s back, for a cuddle was to be had.
“I am so glad I found you,” Hamish said with delight
“Uh excuse me,” then came a sudden voice, a little to their right.

“I think your reindeer is wonderful,” said the strange old funny man
“May I ask you where you found him? So fast and fleet and grand?”
Dasher looked at Santa, for he knew him straight away
Though his shorts and shirt were a good disguise, his beard so gave him away.

“You see I used to have a reindeer, just like this fine one here
But then something happened, that makes me shed a tear.
In my haste to get back home, I left this friend behind
At Cradle Mountain, just yesterday, I must have been so blind!”

“Uh we bought him from somewhere else, far away from here.”
Said Hamish’s daddy with a shaky voice, nervous and full of fear.
Santa smiled and sighed a sigh and looked into Hamish’s eyes
“Is this true?” he asked poor Hamish, to the little boy’s surprise.

Now Hamish was a good boy, he always did the right thing
But to let go of his reindeer, who could make his young heart sing?
“This is your reindeer,” he finally said, with a sad little sigh
“We took him from where you left him, I hope you didn’t cry!”

Santa smiled and bent his head for the usual Dasher lick
But the super-fast young reindeer and was still mad at old St. Nick.
Santa stood up quickly and shook his sad white head
“It seems Dasher may wish to stay,” he suddenly and simply said.

“I will go around the corner and wait by that yellow phone
And if Dasher comes and finds me I will know he’s coming home.
But one thing, young Hamish, more important than the stars above
If Dasher chooses to stay with you, you must give him all of your love!”

As Dasher watched old Santa go and wait around the bend
He knew that he still loved him, despite his great new friend.
So he walked to Hamish and his proud dad and gave them both a lick
And then with an eager bound he trotted after old St. Nick.

Hamish ran around the corner, to say just one last goodbye
And stopped with absolute shock at the vision in his eye.
There, right before him, rising into the air
Was Santa and his reindeer, happy and without a care.

“No-one believed young Hamish,” said Sister Mary, moving me to the door
“Until the following Christmas, and a present they couldn’t ignore.
It was a boy riding a reindeer, a carved figure among the stash
With a small note from Santa, it read ‘Here’s to Dasher’s Dash!'”

And so down a misty lane, and beyond a snowy path
I left a small thatched cottage, an old woman at the hearth.
Are her tales truthful, and the adventures she perceives?
If yay or nay, I know this day, I’ll be back next Christmas Eve!