“The Night Before Christmas” Biker Style!! By: DD 12/11 ‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro’ the house, Not a creature was stirring, cuz we were all a little soused. . . The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, And the rest of her clothes were nearby on the chair. The rugrats were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of the last run danced in their heads. Mama had her cuffs out and I was fit to be “tied” When a heckuva racket came in, from outside!! A roar and some knockin’, a thump and a clatter, I yelled “IT’S THE COP’S, TAKE THE MONEY AND SCATTER!!” Away to the window I jumped like a flash, But tripped on the tranny on the floor, cuz I’m trashed. . . The moon on the white of the new fallen snow, Gave luster and shine to the objects below. . . . And what to my glazed over eyes did appear, But a huge, hairy biker holding a beer. He had a chopped out pan and holy crap it was slick, I knew in a moment that that sled was trick. . . More rapid than eagles his crew they came, As they all cracked fresh beers he called them by name: “ Hey Ratchet! Hey Slim! Hey Shorty and Nixon, Hey Slider, Hey TJ, Hey Rafter and Dickson!!” “ To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! One nice long burnout, One burnout from all!!” As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly, They laid down some smoke and rode into the sky; Up to the house-tops the riders they flew, Their baggers loaded with toys (and a few more beers too) And then up above rose a noise that was just like thunder What the hell kind of pipes are those, I began to wonder?? As I drew in my head and was turning around, I noticed that big bastard made it in without makin’ a sound!! He was dressed all in leather, from his head to his feet. Chains, skulls and patches. . . Man this cat was beat!! A bundle of shiny stuff was flung on his back, Some chrome, some polished and some was flat black. His eyes how they sparkled!! His face was so merry, His cheeks were kinda haggard, and his nose like a cherry, His nicotine stained mouth was drawn up like a bow, And his long, braided goat was as white as the snow. The stump of a blunt he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face, big shoulders and a beer belly. He needed a shave and he was kinda smelly!! He was a big S.O.B, but a friendly old elf, And I laughed right out loud, in spite of myself A wink of his eye and a twist of his head Soon let me know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And left a pile of goodies enough to make me berserk. Then he pinched out the blunt and put the roach in his pocket, And shot up the chimney like chain/leather rocket. He threw a leg oer’ his chopper and gave a sharp whistle, And they flew off into the sky as fast as a missile. But I heard him exclaim as they went out of sight, “Nothing on these damned old bikes ever stays tight!!”
Posted on: Mon, 15 Dec 2014 21:06:06 +0000
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