‘Twas a Husky-borne Christmas
‘Twas the night before Christmas....
I gassed up The Hog,
My Harley named Rudolph
(Who thought that one up?)
I can’t use the reindeer.
They say they can’t fly.
So, on candy-red Rudy
I’ll do Christmas Ride.
I thought of those reindeer,
I used to drive,
As I dumped with right leg
And spurred her: To life!
She’s ten cubic inches
For each one reindeer;
The Harley’s named Rudolph;
That’s close enough here.
That night before Christmas....
What music! Sweet Hog!
The Harley named Rudy
Was thunder aloft.
I‘ve wind in my face
And fire in my heart
And a big sack of toys that ...
...just fits the side car.
She handled the Big Ride
Like most Harley D’s:
Freeze at an idle....
Flood on a flee.
The evening grew late
As the side car grew light.
Eight times ten cubic inches
Barked their tune to the night.
On spark plugs! On crankshaft!
On push rods! On sprockets!
Eight times ten cubic inches?
You should fly like a rocket!
They wrote off the reindeer
‘cause reindeer can’t fly.
Now I ride ol’ Rudy
And freeze Christmas Ride.
Woe.... Vapours met cold air
In big freezing carb.
Eight times ten cubic inches
Were first wheezing ... then starved.
I thought of those reindeer,
Who I used to flog.
They acted on magic
That’s not felt by Hogs.
Go faster, you bas*ards
(In hollers and whipsers)
Dog-gone it! Get hoofing!
Come on, guys, get with it!
Up! Over the rooftops!
Up! Up, I say,
Or we’ll be statistics
They’ll read Christmas Day.
Then, lamp-post met footpeg.
Then, shyte hit the fan.
The flyin’ ain’t bad...
Just a bitch when you land!
The first bump is easy:
You land on your head.
Thank God for brain buckets...
For that, I’m not dead.
First moved were legs...
Then, I wiggled my arms...
My toes ... then, my fingers.
Hmm ... didn’t do much harm.
I counted those fingers.
They added to ten.
No cranial damage...
I’ll live through it, then.
I checked out my hide and I ...
...found, not a scratch!
I caught all the magic
Poor Rudy didn’t catch.
I looked at the side car.
Hmmph!... Hardly a dent!
The lamp-post didn’t move,
But the Harley was dead.
So, there, by the lamp-post,
I swore at the sight.
"Merry Christmas", I muttered,
"This just ain’t been my night!"
I glared at that side car
With nary a bend,
"Holy shyte!" I remembered,
"I’ve so many gifts yet!.
The still of the silence,
Now haunting The Ride,
Was shattered by ruckus
Barked out on the night.
Soon ... harnessed, with dog sled,
A big guy and toys,
A fast team of huskies
Was live in their noise.
They leapt to the challenge,
With stout husky hearts,
Tore into the Big Ride
That wiped out the Harley.
Much swifter than reindeer,
Much safer than Hogs,
Together they danced
To accomplish the job.
On Shilo! On Sheeba!
On Kiva! On Misty!
On Tanya! On Major!
On Sarge!... Hey! It’s Christmas!
To the heights of the rooftops,
From a blanket of clouds,
Just watch out for lamp posts,
For crying out loud!
‘Twas the night before Christmas,
Near the end for this trip,
And the skies were alive
With awry husky yips
That vied with the Harley
In the strength of pure sound.
But huskies can fly
Where poor Rudy went down.
They’re kinder than reindeer
On brittle old roofs.
Their soft pads of fluff
Aren’t like clattering hooves.
Then, at last, The Ride ended.
"Thank you, Huskies, indeed!
Merry Christmas", I mumbled,
Now, it’s time for Big Sleep.
Merry Christmas one and all....
Woof!
‘Twas the night before Christmas....
I gassed up The Hog,
My Harley named Rudolph
(Who thought that one up?)
I can’t use the reindeer.
They say they can’t fly.
So, on candy-red Rudy
I’ll do Christmas Ride.
I thought of those reindeer,
I used to drive,
As I dumped with right leg
And spurred her: To life!
She’s ten cubic inches
For each one reindeer;
The Harley’s named Rudolph;
That’s close enough here.
That night before Christmas....
What music! Sweet Hog!
The Harley named Rudy
Was thunder aloft.
I‘ve wind in my face
And fire in my heart
And a big sack of toys that ...
...just fits the side car.
She handled the Big Ride
Like most Harley D’s:
Freeze at an idle....
Flood on a flee.
The evening grew late
As the side car grew light.
Eight times ten cubic inches
Barked their tune to the night.
On spark plugs! On crankshaft!
On push rods! On sprockets!
Eight times ten cubic inches?
You should fly like a rocket!
They wrote off the reindeer
‘cause reindeer can’t fly.
Now I ride ol’ Rudy
And freeze Christmas Ride.
Woe.... Vapours met cold air
In big freezing carb.
Eight times ten cubic inches
Were first wheezing ... then starved.
I thought of those reindeer,
Who I used to flog.
They acted on magic
That’s not felt by Hogs.
Go faster, you bas*ards
(In hollers and whipsers)
Dog-gone it! Get hoofing!
Come on, guys, get with it!
Up! Over the rooftops!
Up! Up, I say,
Or we’ll be statistics
They’ll read Christmas Day.
Then, lamp-post met footpeg.
Then, shyte hit the fan.
The flyin’ ain’t bad...
Just a bitch when you land!
The first bump is easy:
You land on your head.
Thank God for brain buckets...
For that, I’m not dead.
First moved were legs...
Then, I wiggled my arms...
My toes ... then, my fingers.
Hmm ... didn’t do much harm.
I counted those fingers.
They added to ten.
No cranial damage...
I’ll live through it, then.
I checked out my hide and I ...
...found, not a scratch!
I caught all the magic
Poor Rudy didn’t catch.
I looked at the side car.
Hmmph!... Hardly a dent!
The lamp-post didn’t move,
But the Harley was dead.
So, there, by the lamp-post,
I swore at the sight.
"Merry Christmas", I muttered,
"This just ain’t been my night!"
I glared at that side car
With nary a bend,
"Holy shyte!" I remembered,
"I’ve so many gifts yet!.
The still of the silence,
Now haunting The Ride,
Was shattered by ruckus
Barked out on the night.
Soon ... harnessed, with dog sled,
A big guy and toys,
A fast team of huskies
Was live in their noise.
They leapt to the challenge,
With stout husky hearts,
Tore into the Big Ride
That wiped out the Harley.
Much swifter than reindeer,
Much safer than Hogs,
Together they danced
To accomplish the job.
On Shilo! On Sheeba!
On Kiva! On Misty!
On Tanya! On Major!
On Sarge!... Hey! It’s Christmas!
To the heights of the rooftops,
From a blanket of clouds,
Just watch out for lamp posts,
For crying out loud!
‘Twas the night before Christmas,
Near the end for this trip,
And the skies were alive
With awry husky yips
That vied with the Harley
In the strength of pure sound.
But huskies can fly
Where poor Rudy went down.
They’re kinder than reindeer
On brittle old roofs.
Their soft pads of fluff
Aren’t like clattering hooves.
Then, at last, The Ride ended.
"Thank you, Huskies, indeed!
Merry Christmas", I mumbled,
Now, it’s time for Big Sleep.
Merry Christmas one and all....
Woof!
