'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the DESERT.
Not a dood was stirring, not even my son Shandor.
The air filters were hung to dry by the pit fire with care,
In hopes that some sleep would soon be there;
The riders were nestled all snug on their air mattress beds,
While visions of bomb-runs danced in their heads;
And Super Dave in his foot-brace, and I working with a tap,
Had just settled down, knocking dust off with a slap,
When out on mesa there arose such a thumping,
I sprang from my stool to see what was jumping.
Away from the fire-pit I flew like a flash,
Tripped over the toolbox, and my shin I did gash.
The moon on the breast of the fresh blown sand
Gave the luster of mid-day to sand-dunes so grand,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a big fat bearded dood on a Husky, and some elves real near,
With a little FLICK OF THE WRIST, so lively and quick,
I heard the roaring of a husky with a pumper carb….and I knew in a
moment it must be Bill…..err I mean St. Nick.
More rapid than coyotes, his elves on pit bikes they came,
and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On Cupid! On, Donder and Blitzen…GET RIPPIN!
To the top of the hill! To the top of the wall!
Now POWER away! RIP away! SCOOT away all!"
As dry SAND grains that before the north wind fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the dune tops the elves they flew,
With the pit bikes full of toys, and St. Nicholas RIPPIN on his Husky
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the tooth.
The LAUGHTER and RIPPING of each little goof.
With a wrench still in my hand, and was turning around,
Launching over the dunes St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in Red Kevlar, from his head to his foot,
and his gear was all dusted with grit, SAND, AND SOOT
THE PART I NEEDED he had in his hand,
it was wrapped so cool, but just to keep out the sand!
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 a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, 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,
he wrenched on my Husky; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, back upon his HUSKY he goes;
He sprang to his seat, to his elves gave a whistle,
And away they all ROOSTED like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a GOOD RIDE!