Jack Schmitt’s Christmas Poem
“Hey, Gordie,” Schmitt called to Houston. “In the tradition of Apollo 8, I’ve got paraphrase of a familiar poem for you.” And he read over the radio:
Well, it’s The week before Christmas and all through the LM, not a commander was stirring, not even Cernan. The samples were stowed in their places with care, in hopes that with you, they soon will be there. And Cernan – Gene in his hammock and I in my cap, had just settled our brains for a long – short lunar nap. But out on the – up on comm loop there rose such a scatter, I sprang from my hammock, to see what was the matter. The Sun on the breast of the surface below gave the luster of objects, as if in snow. And what to my wandering eyes should appear, but a miniature Rover and eight tiny reindeer. And a little old driver so lively and quick, I knew in a moment, it must be St. Nick. I heard him exclaim as he – over the hills he did speed. Merry Christmas to all and to all – to you all Godspeed.
Merry Christmas