A Christmas Motorcycle Poem
'Twas the night before Christmas....
Twas the night before Christmas, all through the garages
Not a motorcycle was rumbling, 'cept for Santa Claus'
The leathers were hung in the closet with care
In hopes that nice weather soon would be there.
The bikes were all nestled snug in their covers
With visions of tarmac and burning up rubber
Their owner there, ready for his nightcap
Settling down for a long winter nap.
When out on the street, arose such a rumble
He sprang from the bed as he started to grumble
When what to his wondering eyes should appear
Was a pack of motorcycles, with riders and gear.
With one old rider so lively and quick
He knew in a moment it was biker St. Nick
All dressed in leather, from his head to his foot
His clothes were all splattered in mud and with soot.
A bundle of bike parts he had flung on his back
Down the chimney he came, with a big red sack
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work
As he filled all the bikers boots, then turned with a jerk.
And laying a finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose
He sprang on his motorcycle, to his team gave a sign
As they cracked their throttles and got into line.
Now Honda, Now Harley, Now Triumph, and Beemer,
Now Kawasaki, Now Suzuki, all polished to shimmer
But I heard him exclaim as he roared out of sight
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!