Twas The Night Before Christmas – NASCAR Style
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the sport
Not a person was stirring, not even pit support;
The bodies were hung on the chassis with care,
In hopes that Daytona soon would be here;
The drivers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of victories danced in their heads;
And Denny and his crew chief and all in their caps
Had just settled down for a Post Season nap,
When out on the track there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from their beds to see what was the matter
Away to the window like Rocket Newman they dashed,
Tore open the shop doors and threw back the sash.
The moon on the breast of the newly paved track
Showed not a pot hole in sight not even a crack
When what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a COT sleigh with 800 horses and a very low gear,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
They knew in a moment it must be St. Mike
More rapid than corvettes his coursers they came,
He whistled and shouted then called them by name,
Now, Jimmie ! Now, Jeff ! Now Tony and Ryan !
On, Clint, On Kevin, On Junior and Carl
To the top of the track! Stay out of the wall!
Now race away! Race away! Bring back it all!
And like jets after the anthem these babies did fly
And if they meet with an obstacle, paint and body will cry,
So off to the race track the haulers they flew,
With a COT full of tools, and St. Mike on board too.
And then in a twinkling, they heard on the track
Roaring and spinning, NASCAR’s Horses were back.
As they drew back their heads and were spinning around,
Across the track, St. Mike came with a bound
He was dressed in a suit, from his head to his foot,
His white shirt was free from ashes or soot;
A bundle of trophies he had flung on his back
He looked like a promoter promoting the track.
His eyes – how they twinkled. His dimples how merry!
He was the pres for sure, this St. was no cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow.
He’s happy to tell you, “We have the chase here you know.”
Victories they mounted though some have a beef
The smoke from the burnouts circle his head like a wreath.
He had a kind face and a fire in his belly,
And when he talked people listened even on the telly,
He was gracious with class an impressive old elf
And I gasped when I saw him in spite of myself
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head.
Soon put me at ease I had nothing to dread
He spoke a few words and went straight to his work.
He polished the trophy and turned with a jerk
With a wave of his hand and a smile from his face
He gave a quick nod and across the track he did race
He jumped in his COT, to his the teams gave a whistle
And away they all flew like the bullet from a pistol
But I heard him exclaim, as they raced out in to the night
Merry Christmas y’all, Daytona’s in sight!