Vietnam Vets North Dakota Motorcycle Club
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Vietnam / Iraq Question the Decision - Support the Troops

Merry Christmas............
>> 'Twas the night before Christmas, And not until Spring,
>> Would an engine be running, not even a Wing.
>> The bikes are all sleeping, They're covered and warm
>> Batteries are tended, nylon covers their form.
>> My Bros were all nestled all snug in their beds,
>> While visions of new chrome danced in their heads.
>> And I in my doo-rag, bike jacket and boots,
>> Out shoveling snow, and dreaming of scoots.
>> Then from the horizon there came such a clatter,
>> My shovel I dropped, what could be the matter?
>> Away up the hill, I slogged through the snow,
>> Looked up at the sky; where'd all that noise go?
>> A throb from the heavens like straight pipes so hearty,
>> Gave Summers' good thoughts, a loud bikers' party.
>> When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
>> But a Hog Ultra Classic, Red trailer in rear.
>> With a little old rider, so lively and quick,
>> I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
>> More rapid than Crotchies his Ultra came on,
>> And he whistled, and shouted, and sang out this song;
>> "Now, Harley! Now, Big Dog! On Honda and Beamer!
>> Now Vulcan! Now Injun! On Vict'ry and Trumpet!
>> To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
>> Now RIDE away! RIDE away! RIDE away all!"
>> As small bikes that from the semis do fly,
>> When they meet with the air blast, mount to the sky.
>> So up to the house-top that Ultra it flew,
>> With a trailer of goodies, and ole' St. Nick too.
>> And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
>> The rumble and thunder of pipes that gave proof.
>> I ran to the house, boots thumping around,
>> And in came St. Nick all bearded and round.
>> Dressed all in black leather, from do-rag to boot,
>> His chaps were all tarnished with road grime and soot.
>> A T-bag of goodies he'd flung on his back,
>> And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
>> His shades -- how they twinkled! his do-rag how scary!
>> With chains intertwined, through skulls that were cherry!
>> His droll little mouth had done many a row,
>> So the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
>> The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
>> The smoke had a strange smell; it gave him relief!
>> He had a broad face and a large fat beer belly,
>> That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
>> He was tattooed and plump, a right jolly old rider,
>> So I offered a cold Bud, thought what could be righter?
>> A wink of his eye as he downed that cold beer,
>> Gave me to know I had nothing to fear.
>> He spoke not a word, but went straight to my ride,
>> And fixed it with Chrome, Horsepower and Pride!
>> And giving the peace sign with bikers' good cheer,
>> Took off for his Ultra rumbling near.
>> He sprang on the saddle, his gloves on the bars,
>> A wheelie he threw then off towards the stars!
>> I heard him exclaim, as my chest swelled with pride...
>> Merry Christmas to all, And to all a good ride!
>> Dee Whitehead



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