A Guyanese Christmas Eve Feast

’Twas the night before Christmas, in a lil wooden house, Not a mosquito buzzing,

not even one louse. The breeze from the window blowing nice and free, Carrying spice and

sweet Christmas memory. The pots on the fire was bubbling slow,

Pepperpot breathing, rich and mellow. Cassareep dark, the meat falling apart,

That one pot alone warming up everybody heart. Garlic pork soaking from since last

night, Seasoning soak in deep, everything right. Frying tomorrow

but tasting tonight, Because “just a lil piece” always feel right. Ginger beer chilling,

sharp and strong, Sorrel steeping from long time gone. Mauby bitter but nice once yuh know,