Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the garages
Not a motorcycle was rumbling,
except for Santa Claus'
Our gear was hung in the closet with care
In hopes that nice weather, soon would be here.
Our bikes were all nestled snug under their covers
While we slept with visions of Sturgis and others.
With momma in her bandana and I in my skull cap,
We had just settled down for a long winters nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a rumble,
I sprang from the bed and I started to grumble.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a pack of motorcycles, with riders and gear.
There was one old driver, so lively and quick
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!
He was dressed in Red leather, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all dirty with bugs and road soot.
A bundle of chrome he had flung on his back
And down the chimney he came, with his red sack.
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work.
As he filled all the riding boots I saw him smirk,
and as soon as he was done he turned with a jerk.
Laying a finger alongside of his nose,
He gave a nod and up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his motorcycle, to his team gave a sign,
and they all cracked there throttles and got into line.
He called them by name as their engines rev'd up,
"Now Honda, Now Indian, Now Triumph and Victory,
On Kawi, On Suzuki, On Yamaha and Harley"
As they roared out of sight, I heard him exclaim,
"Keep the rubber side down and have a good ride.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night."
