Biker's "Night Before Christmas"
'Twas the night before Christmas, And not until Spring
Would a motor be running, not even a SOHC4 or 'Wing.
The bikes are all sleeping, they're covered and warm,
Batteries are tended, Sea-Foam in their form.
My kids were all nestled snug in their beds,
While visions of new chrome danced in their heads.
And I in my black helmutt, bike jacket and boots
Out shoveling snow, and dreaming of scoots.
Then from the horizon there came such a clatter
My shovel I dropped, what could be a matter?
Away up the hill, I slogged through the snow
Looked up at the sky; where'd all that noise go?
Then a throb from the heavens, like straight pipes so hearty
Gave Summers' good thoughts, a loud bikers' party.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a SOHC4 750, with Red Trailer at the rear!
With a little old rider, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than a Deer his 'SOHC4 came on,
And he whistled, and shouted, and sang out this song;
'Now, 350! Now, 450! On 550 and 750!
Now 1800! Now Valkyrie! On Rune and All!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now RIDE away! RIDE away! RIDE away all!'
So up to the house-top that 'SOHC4' it flew
With a trailer of goodies, and ole' St. Nick too!
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The thunder of pipes that gave me some proof.
I ran in the house, boots thumping around,
And in came St. Nick all bearded and round;
Dressed all in black leather, from baklava to boot
His chaps were all tarnished with road grime and soot;
A T-bag of goodies he'd flung on his back
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack;
His shades -- how they twinkled! his do-rag how scary!
Like flames intertwined, through eyes that were cherry!
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
The smoke had a strange smell; it gave him relief.
He had a broad face and a large beer belly
That shook when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly!
He was wethered and slow, a right mile'd old rider,
So I offered a few shots, thought what could be righter?
A wink of his eye as he downed them with beer,
Gave me to know I had nothing to fear;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to my ride
And fixed it with Chrome, Horsepower and Pride.
And giving the peace sign with bikers' good cheer
Strode off to his 'SOHC4' that was idling just near.
He sprang on the saddle, his gloves on the bars
A wheelie he threw; then off towards the stars.
I heard him exclaim, as my chest swelled with pride
'MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD RIDE!'
