A Motorcycle Christmas Poem

Cozy Fireplace

By: Rich Gouin

Twas the night before Christmas when all through the garages

Not a motorcycle was rumbling, except for Santa Claus’

The leather was hung in the closet with care

In hopes that nice weather, soon would be there

 

Our bikes were all nestled snug in their covers

With visions of blacktop and burning up rubber

With momma in her bandana and I in my skull cap

We had settled down for a long winters nap

 

When out on the lawn, arose such a rumble

I sprang from the bed as I started to grumble

When what to my wondering eyes should appear

Was a pack of motorcycles, with riders and gear,

With one old driver so lively and quick

I knew in a moment it must be biker St. Nick

 

He was dressed all in leather, from his head to his foot

His clothes were all tarnished with bugs and road soot

A bundle of chrome he had flung on his back

Down the chimney he came, carrying a big red sack

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work

As he filled all the riding boots, then turned with a jerk,

And laying a finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose

 

He sprang to his motorcycle, to his team gave a sign

As they cracked there throttles and got into line,

Now Honda, Now Harley, Now Triumph, and Trike,

On Kawasaki, On Suzuki, On Yamaha and Victory,

But I heard him exclaim as he roared out of sight

Keep the rubber side down and have a good ride.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!