With thanks and apologies to Clement Clarke Moore:
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the garage
Not a vehicle was stirring, except the old Dodge;
The tools were scattered by projects in disarray,
In hopes that Lotii would be running the next day;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of high-G corners danced in their heads;
And mamma in her nightie had headed to bed,
After learning I had "just a few more" tasks ahead;
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my creeper to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, I flew like a flash,
Tripped over the air hose, and landed with a crash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the lustre of Lucas lighting to objects below,
When, what to my dreary eyes should appear,
But a US-spec Elise, and nary a reindeer,
With a little old red-suited driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than a Ferrari he came in his mount,
Flicked left, than right, too many to count;
Elans, Europas, Elevens, and Sevens too,
They all provided heritage to this coups;
For this Santa drove not a reindeer-powered sleigh,
But a Lotus, a much better way!
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 in this Elise he flew,
With the boot full of packages, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the shingles
The rumble of his mount with nary a jingle.
As I wiped off the grease and was turning around,
In through the door came St. Nicholas with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were not tarnished, with ashes or soot;
A bundle of packages he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his 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 bowl full of 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 he gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Installing and tuning; then turned with a jerk,
And laying a finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, my Lotii awoke;
He sprang to his Elise, to his Webers gave a blip,
And away he flew at a mighty good clip.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."
------------------
Happy Motoring At all Costs!
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the garage
Not a vehicle was stirring, except the old Dodge;
The tools were scattered by projects in disarray,
In hopes that Lotii would be running the next day;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of high-G corners danced in their heads;
And mamma in her nightie had headed to bed,
After learning I had "just a few more" tasks ahead;
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my creeper to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, I flew like a flash,
Tripped over the air hose, and landed with a crash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the lustre of Lucas lighting to objects below,
When, what to my dreary eyes should appear,
But a US-spec Elise, and nary a reindeer,
With a little old red-suited driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than a Ferrari he came in his mount,
Flicked left, than right, too many to count;
Elans, Europas, Elevens, and Sevens too,
They all provided heritage to this coups;
For this Santa drove not a reindeer-powered sleigh,
But a Lotus, a much better way!
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 in this Elise he flew,
With the boot full of packages, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the shingles
The rumble of his mount with nary a jingle.
As I wiped off the grease and was turning around,
In through the door came St. Nicholas with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were not tarnished, with ashes or soot;
A bundle of packages he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his 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 bowl full of 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 he gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Installing and tuning; then turned with a jerk,
And laying a finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, my Lotii awoke;
He sprang to his Elise, to his Webers gave a blip,
And away he flew at a mighty good clip.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."
------------------
Happy Motoring At all Costs!
