'Twas the Night Before Christmas

[helicopterjim R.I.P.]

Some friends of mine have been recomposing this old Christmas poem to add a Guzzi flavour. I have the first two here; perhaps I'll have more by the end of day!

 

Enjoy!!

[helicopterjim R.I.P.]

Twas the night before Christmas

 

 

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the garage

 

Not a Guzzi was stirring, not even a Dingo;

 

The saddlebags were hung by the chimney with care,

 

In hopes that St. Carcano soon would be there;

 

The V11s were nestled all snug in their sheds,

 

While visions of Stucchi pipes danced in their heads;

 

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

 

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

 

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

 

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

 

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

 

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

 

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

 

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

 

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

 

But a Otto Cilindri, and eight tiny pistons it was clear,

 

With a little old rider, so lively and quick,

 

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

 

More rapid than Hondas his corsas they came,

 

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

 

"Now, Ambo! now, Eldo! now, Zigolo and Quota!

 

On, Griso! on Cali! on Trotter and Astore!

 

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

 

 

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

 

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

 

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

 

So up to the house-top the corsas they flew,

 

With the saddlebags full of toys, and St. Carcano too.

 

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

 

The rumble and rocking from each little exhaust poof.

 

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

 

Down the chimney St. Carcano came with a bound.

 

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

 

And his clothes were all tarnished with rashes and soot;

 

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

 

And he looked like a biker just opening his tank pack.

 

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 naval 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,

 

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

 

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

 

And giving a snort, a booger in the chimney before he rose;

 

He sprang to his sleigh, to his Guzzis gave a whistle,

 

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

 

But I heard him exclaim, ere he rode out of sight,

 

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good ride."

 

 

by Cory

[helicopterjim R.I.P.]

Twas the night before Christmas

 

"Twas the night before Christmas, and out in my shed

Sat a tired old Guzzi, its battery dead

 

Its fenders were rusted, its floorboard had holes

The seat and its stuffing had been eaten by voles

 

The tires showed dryrot, the gas tank was leaking

A turn of the bars sent the steering head creaking

 

I put on my coat and with a weight on my heart

Went out to see if I could get it to start

 

When it finally cranked over, there arose a great clatter

And I knew in a second it was Guzzi clutch chatter

 

Then from under the tank there came a bright flash

The wiring harness had just turned to ash!

 

"I'm done with these things!" I finally swore

"Enough is enough, I can take it no more!"

 

But what then to my red, teary eyes should appear

But a little Italian (damn, I need a beer!)

 

"Buon giorno," he said (and made me all wootsie!)

"You needa my help? My name? Carlo Guzzi!"

 

"This bike can be saved, no reason to grieve,

All you need is some faith in my work - please believe!"

 

"A hammer! Some duct tape! Getta me more tools!

When you work on my bikes, just make uppa da rules!"

 

I'll get her running, and no way will she stall,

(butta pleeze, pleeze - you wait out in the hall!"

 

Then a cough! And a sputter! Then cacophony STUNNING!

I couldn't believe it! THE OLD GIRL WAS RUNNING!

 

Then the ghost said to me, kicking a tire,

"You can ride any where but DON'T TOUCHA DIS WIRE!"

 

The Old Man then vanished (amid sneezes and farts)

But I saw on the floor that he'd left me some parts

 

So I opened the shed, threw over a leg,

And rode off in the night, in search of a keg!

 

And I thought to myself (as I missed second gear!),

Merry Christmas to All, and Happy New Year!"

 

by Rick

[Admin Jaap]

Pure poetry! Thanks.

 

I wish everyone here a merry Christmas and a lovely 2011 with a speedy start of the biking season.

And I want to thank you all for contributing to this forum, making it my favourite hobby! After my GF, my Sport Monza, my 1200 Sport, playing billiards, making dinner, reading the newspaper, Facebook, mowing the lawn and doing the dishes.