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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!

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