Please indulge me while I take a break from my quest to write the most credible, relevant yerba mate blog on  the planet. I crafted this posting in the spirit of the holidays. Now, enjoy . . .

THE APPEARING OF EL MATERO

‘Twas the quiet of morning, the day had just broken;

The bacon was sizzling, the fireplace ‘a smokin’;

The breakfast was cooked in the kitchen with care,

Awaiting our family to meet up in there;

The children were yawning with sleep in their eyes,

They hated to wake so near to sunrise;

And me in casuals, my wife in her robe,

Had finished the chores that bless our abode,

When off in the distance I heard such a thunder,

I sprang from my chair to not have to wonder.

Away to the window I flew as insane,

Threw back the curtain and peered through the pane.

The sun on the knoll of the rolling green lawn

Shimmered like emerald at first light of dawn,

When, out in the distance my eyes did the read,

Was a crimson red coach, and seven great steed,

The swaggering driver, rounding the narrow,

Just had to be the great “El Matero.”

More fright’ning than lions, his chargers forged on,

And he whistled, and clucked, and sang out their song;

“Now, Lemon! Now, Orange Peel! Now, Spice and Pomelo!

On, Boldo! On, Ginger! Let’s go now, Big Fellow!

To the top of the road! To the top of the hill!

Now dash away! Get away! Run away still!”

Some dry leaves spilled from his metallic gold trunk,

Then floated to earth, to be lost in a funk,

So back to the highway his chargers they flew,

With a coach full of yerba, and El Matero too.

And then, in the quiet, I licked at my lip;

Anticipation and thirst for one little sip.

As I unpacked my gourd and turned around,

A knock at the door, El Matero did sound.

He was dressed like a gaucho, from sombrero to boot,

And his clothes were all pressed and cost lots of loot;

A bag full of yerba he held ‘neath his cape,

And slowly he moved — with caution — just for my sake.

His eyes — yes they twinkled! His smile was to please!

He took out a mate, and filled it with leaves.

A vigorous shake to settle the dust,

The water poured in and the bombilla a thrust;

He kissed the bombilla, and took in a swig,

And the froth on the surface, it twinkled a jig;

He had a square jaw and arms wrapped in muscle,

That bulged when he moved, and he moved with a hustle.

He was gallant and suave, a right dapper young guy,

And I watched as he lifted his gourd to the sky;

A wink of his eye and more water he poured,

Soon gave me to know that I too had scored;

He spoke not a word, but now in the mood,

He did it thrice more; these for my brood,

And placing his glove next to his brow,

He saluted us all, before taking a bow;

Then ran to his coach, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like a heat-seeking missile.

But I remember his shout, ere he fled in such chaos,

“Salud mis amigos, y vaya con Dios!”