'Twas the night before Christmas. And not until SpringWould a go be running not even a go. The bikes are all sleeping they're covered and warm. Batteries are tended nylon covers their form. My Bros were all nestled down snug in their beds,While visions of new chrome danced in their heads. And I in my do-rag ride jacket and bootsOut shoveling snow and dreaming of scoots. Then from the horizon there came such a clatterMy shovel I dropped what could be the be?Away up the forge. I slogged through the snowLooked up at the sky; where'd all that noise go?Then a throb from the heavens like straight pipes so heartyGave Summers' good thoughts a loud bikers' party. When what to my wondering eyes should appearBut a Hog Ultra Classic. Red trailer in rear!With a little old rider so lively and quick,I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than a V-Rod his Ultra came on,And he whistled and shouted and sang out this song;"Now. Springer! Now. Dyna! On Ultra and Softail!Now Vulcan! Now Injun! On Vict'ry and win!To the top of the porch! to the top of the protect!Now RIDE away! go away! RIDE away all!"As small bikes that from the semis do fly,When they meet with the air make noise attach to the sky,So up to the house-top that Ultra it flewWith a trailer of goodies and ole' St. Nick tooAnd then in a twinkling. I heard on the roofThe go and move of pipes that gave proof. I ran in the house boots thumping around,And in came St. cut all bearded and roundDressed all in color flog from do-rag to bootHis chaps were all tarnished with road grime and coat;A T-bag of goodies he'd flung on his backAnd he looked like a peddler just opening his packHis shades -- how they twinkled! his do-rag how scary!With chains intertwined through skulls that were cherry!His droll little mouth bug covered teeth all aglow,Made the beard of his bring up be even more white as the come down. The amaze of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,The smoke smelled of exhaust; it assured my belief. He had a broad approach and a large fat beer bellyThat shook when he laughed desire a bowlful of jellyHe was tattooed and drop a right bait old rider,So I offered a cold create from raw material thought what could be righter?A gesticulate of his eye as he downed that cold beer,Gave me to know I had nothing to fearHe spoke not a word but went straight to my rideAnd fixed it with plate. Horsepower and PrideAnd giving the peace sign with bikers' good cheerStrode off to his Ultra rumbling nearHe sprang on the saddle his gloves on the barsA wheelie he threw; then off towards the starsI heard him exclaim as my chest swelled with experience"Merry CHRISTMAS TOALL. AND TO ALL A GOOD RIDE!"
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