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Twas the night before Christmas - Paddock version


Das Borgen
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'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the paddock,

Not a motor was stirring, not even an impact ;

The stockings were hung by the pit fence with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

 

The drivers were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of championships danced in their heads;

And mamma in her checkered flag, and I in my Bell,

Had just settled down for a long winter's spell,

 

When out on the grid there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

To the back of the trailer I flew like a shift,

Unlocked the rampdoor, and let down the lift.

 

The moon on the crest of the new-paved front straight,

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects so late,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a formula car, screaming by in top gear.

 

Such a noise caused the chief steward to immediately

arise,

And by the look on his face he had words for this guy,

He shouted aloud in his most gruff voice,

“It’s quiet time now, GET OFF OF THE COURSE”!

 

Then sound control had been stirred from its slumber,

And yelled to the chief steward, “I’ve never seen such

a DB number!”

The chief of tech said, upon seeing this fellow,

“I’ve never seen that car, and I know it has no

annual”.

 

The chief steward demanded to know this driver’s

intent,

To which registration replied, “Maybe he’s a late

registrant.”

Suddenly timing and scoring appeared from yonder,

And chimed in “That car on course has no transponder.”

 

 

Though I couldn’t see the driver, he went by so quick,

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

More rapid than Schuey his crew they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

 

"Now, JACKMAN! now, TIRE CHANGER! now, CREWCHIEF and

FUELMAN!

On, ENGINEER! on FABRICATOR! on, MANAGER and TIREMAN!

Beyond the tech shed! to base of the pit wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

 

As valves that before the busted cam fly,

When they meet with a piston, mount to the sky,

So to the base of the timing tower the crewman they

flew,

With a hauler full of “go fast” bits, and St. Nicholas

too.

 

And then, in a flash, I heard on the grid

The roaring and thunder that each piston did.

As I drew on my pitboard, and was turning about,

into Victory Lane, St. Nicholas had arrived, without

doubt.

 

He was dressed all in Simpson, from his head to his

boots,

And his suit was all tarnished with oil and soot;

A bundle of speed parts he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a vendor just opening his pack.

 

His face shield -- how it twinkled! his helmet decals

shone!

His patches were like a mural, his name scripted like

a pro!

His neck restraint was the best design we’d seen yet,

And his gloves and his boots were a perfectly matched

set;

 

His tools spoke volumes, he used all that they had,

A mouse, a keyboard, a computer, and CAD;

This just confirmed what we already knew,

More than a great driver, he is a great designer too.

 

The parcels for the stockings that he brought along,

Dripped of technology that helped engines make song;

A look at the sides of his car showed there had been

no rubbing here,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to fear;

 

He spoke not a word, but went straight to pacing,

And filled all the stockings; with parts for racing,

Then flipping the master power switch, and laying his

finger on the starter,

And into first gear, back down pit road, but no

farther;

 

He sprang from his car, to his team gave a holler,

And immediately they loaded the car back in the

hauler.

But I heard him exclaim, as they tore out from the

line,

"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND SHIFT IN TURN 9!"

 

-E.J.

 

-free for distribution as long as you are using it to spread Christmas cheer!

Eddie

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TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE XMAS (HOMEWOOD)

 

Date: 2012-12-24, 6:27PM EST

Reply to: see below

Twas the night before christmas, and all through the trailer.

Not a creature was stirring, not even the neighborhood crack dealer

The stockings were hung to the electric space heater with care,

Each packed with joints and beer, and even a rubber dick for the family queer.

 

My siblings are shaking with fear, in thier bed.

Dreading that unwanted late night visit, from Uncle Jed.

Mom is doing Meth, and Dad is in Jail.

As I settled down, to get me some tail.

 

When out on the yard, there arose such a clatter.

I stopped fucking my sister, to see what was the matter.

It was some drunk old man who pulled out his dick.

He said "whatcha expect shithead, St. Nick?

 

Merry Christmas homewood kids

 

http://pittsburgh.craigslist.org/com/3499593814.html

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