'Twas the Night Before Renfaire

10 July 2009

A shot from my catwalk looking down into my booth. And, a little bit of creative writing to kick off the show.

‘Twas the night before renfaire and all through the site,
Not a Rennie was stirring, it didn’t seem right.

The doublets were hung on the hangers with care,
In hopes that the patrons soon would be there.

The tents were all pitched, the cars were all parked,
“It just seems so quiet,” I calmly remarked.

Most years, the sounds of the night before faire,
are hammers and nail guns that used compressed air.

But once in while, the work all gets done
in time for the Rennies to feel that they’ve won.

The buildings are built, the flags are all hung,
the bards have all practiced the songs to be sung.

The gardens are gorgeous, the grass is so green,
the faire stands just waiting to be heard and seen.

The moon on the crest of the hill of the faire,
does much to inspire us, if only we’d dare.

We dare to imagine the full parking lot,
the traffic to get here, the weather not hot.

We picture the costumes, the weapons, the hats,
We can even imagine the spry acrobats.

The sights and the sounds, and the smells of the faire,
the taste of the foods, the spark in the air.

We can picture the people we only see here,
and can’t wait to find out what they’ve done all year.

Pet patrons and playtrons, and friends of the faire,
in outfits that prove that they really do care.

Then there are hundreds of folks that will come,
they’ve been here before, but once a year and they’re done.

And maybe the biggest excitement we share
is when somebody new falls in love with the faire.

Never been here before, never seen the faire’s shows,
Never tried on a bodice or watched how glass blows.

They come in wearing sundresses, t-shirts and shorts,
but they leave wearing colourful garb of all sorts.

What a pleasure it is, as the closing bells ring,
to see those new folks in new clothes with some bling.

The men in new doublets, their feet in new boots,
the ladies now bodiced, earning hollers and hoots.

And not only clothes will be bought at the faire,
There’s jewelry and mugs and braids for your hair.

There’s pottery, sculpture and original art,
there’s windchimes and flutes and that’s just the start.

Beautiful fairy-stuff, sweet-smelling sticks,
candles and soaps and magical tricks;

Dresses of velvet, hats cavalier,
We wrap them up here, they take them home, there.

There’s books and music and furniture pieces,
there’s weapons and armour, and gifts for your nieces.

The excitement is real and so many will find
faire’s their new favourite thing –a love one-of-a-kind.

The magic of opening day is a gift,
No other feeling provides such a lift.

We hope all we can and dream all we wish,
Perhaps this is the show where we’ll all become rich.

So, with hope in our hearts and sleep all too rare,
on this quiet night, we lay rest to our cares.

We know with the dawn, opening day will arrive–
The hustle and bustle of faire come alive!

So sleep one and all, and dream come what may,
of a Fabulous Renfaire and a Perfect First Day.  

with thanks and admiration for Clement C. Moore