'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not a KX or even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The MX racers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of grid girls, whoops and doubles danced in their heads;
And the line judge in her vest, and I in my Thor helmet,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Kawasaki factory support trailer, and eight tiny racers,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than Ricky Carmichael his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Andrew! now, Alex! now, Garry and Akira!
On, Steward! on Lusk! on, Bostrom and Hayden!
To the top of the jump! to the top of the whoop!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the factory trailer full of tools, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little Alpinstars boot.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed in a Joe Rocket Speedmaster suit!!, from his head to his foot. And his clothes were all tarnished with road-rash and soot;
A bundle of KX500 parts he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a factory rep just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like burning castrol;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook like a CR500, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his truck, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like scalded 500 running on nitro.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD MOTO TOMORROW-NIGHT
A very Happy Holiday season to all..........
DrMojo
