`Twas the week before Christmas and all through the pool not a swimmer was stirring, until I said "200 cool"
The goggles were all hung by the blocks with great care, in hopes that St. Thomas soon would be there.
The swimmers were all nestled all snug in their lanes while visions of "800 IM Drill" danced in their brains.
My assistant in his kerchief and I in my cap, had just settled down to see a "500 Free"
When up on the deck there a rose such a clatter, I sprang from my seat to see what was the matter.
Away to the blocks I flew like a flash, I warmed up my stop watch for a "5O yard splash"
The pool lights, on the "200 Breast" of the fog in the pool gave a luster of mid-day to objects in the pool.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but the coach saying do "8 x 25's" and Yule do them from here.
With the old coach, he said do them on the :30, which are lively and quick, he knew in a moment that that would do the trick.
More rapid than dolphins, his coursers they came, they all told coach, "If you keep it up we will all be lame" He whistled and shouted and called them by name...
Now, Mathew! Now, Sarah! Now, Kelly! And Kendra! On Jenni! On Mindy! On Shannon! And Sean!
To the top of the blocks to the speed on the walls, now sprint away! Sprint away! Sprint away all!
As dry leaves that before the wild "200 Hurricane Fly" when they meet with an obstacle, (like another 200 fly) and with this they sighed.
So up to the deck his coursers they "100 Fly" with a bag of tricks, and painful workouts too. (like 8 x 25 @ : 40 no breather, so that Yule be blue)
And then in a twinkling, I heard from the pool the griping and mumbling of each little fool. As I drew in my head and was turning around, down the lane they all came gagged and bound. Dressed in faded garb and smelling of chlorine they griped and moaned thinking the coaches, how mean. Wearing those suits and caps they all thought ...it's time for some naps.
A bundle of sets coach had flung on his "300 back" and he looked like a peddler just opening his sack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! When he said, do a "200 drill" and don't get out to tinkle. His dimples-how merry! Especially when he said do a "400" all on your belly.
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry. His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, once he knew how nicely a "200 IM" would go.
And the beard on his chin was as gray as the deck, the stump of a pen he held tight in his teeth, while he was thinking a "200 pull" would be neat along with a "150" all on your seat.
He had a broad face and a large round belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
He was a chubby and plump, a right jolly old coach, and they all teased him, in spite of themselves, and he said Yule do "4 x 12 1/2 `s" to help yourselves.
With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head, soon gave them to know that they had nothing to dread, although they were all _ dead.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled all the goggles; then turned to the jerk, and laying a finger aside of his nose, a "400 IM drill" I suppose.
And giving a nod, off the chair he arose, he sprang to the blocks, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all "5O Fly" like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ere they swam out of sight, "200 EZ" to all and to all a good night.
