nembabill
December 29th, 2005, 11:25 AM
The Day After Christmas
'Twas the day after Christmas, and I’m stuck in the house
Staring at my monitor and pushing a mouse.
My bike had been hung in the garage with care,
Hoping that spring would come early next year.
The children were hyper and jumping on beds,
Cause Christmas candy sugar had affected their heads.
Lacking in exercise and feeling like crap,
I was about to bed down for a long winter nap.
When out on the Net there arose such a clatter,
That I opened my E-mail to join in the chatter.
And spying a message with a hot news flash,
Quick down to the basement, I flew in a dash.
Cause the skies ore New England had not yielded snow
Extending the season for the cyclists below;
And what to my wondering eyes had appeared?
But an invitation to ride yet once more this year;
On singletracks frozen lively and quick,
That I knew in a moment, that I'm not really sick.
And over to Bow Ridge the bikers they flew
With bikes in their minivans and in station wagons too.
They met at a Naked Fish with a funny locked door
Two hours before Noon and not a minute before.
More rapid than eagles the bikers they came,
I cavorted, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now Marleen! Now, Bo! Now, Donna! Now, Dave!
On Lorenzo! On Andy! On all of you knaves!
To that big rock hill that looks like a wall!
Let’s ride away! Ride away! Ride away, all!"
And as dry leaves before a wind gust we’ll fly,
And bunny-hop obstacles, and climb to the sky.
Pausing at a trail junction we stopped to look around,
When somebody crashed and fell on the ground.
He landed in mud by a long slippery root.
He was covered in crud from his head to his foot.
His black boots were soaked and his red riding duds,
While matching and colorful were now covered with mud.
A big water pack was strapped to his back,
And he looked like a turtle hung up on its back.
His glasses were muddy; and knocked quite askew
His cheeks were half frozen and his nose was too!
But his mustached mouth was drawn up like a bow,
Though the muck on his chin was black as a crow.
The end of a hose he held tight in his teeth,
And the hose had encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a fat face and a gigantic round belly
That shook when he landed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a big heavy old elf,
And he laughed when we saw him, in spite of himself.
With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head
He gave us to know that he wasn't quite dead.
He spoke not a word but went straight to work,
Pulled a stick from his spokes and turned with a jerk,
His numb fingers reached to untangle the hose,
Then giving us a nod, the smeared biker arose.
He sprang to his bike, and straightened his gear,
He looked down the singletrack without any fear.
And to our group gave a loud whistle,
And away he flew like the down of a thistle.
Hammering his pedals with all of his might.
He turned and exclaimed, as he rode out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a great ride!”
'Twas the day after Christmas, and I’m stuck in the house
Staring at my monitor and pushing a mouse.
My bike had been hung in the garage with care,
Hoping that spring would come early next year.
The children were hyper and jumping on beds,
Cause Christmas candy sugar had affected their heads.
Lacking in exercise and feeling like crap,
I was about to bed down for a long winter nap.
When out on the Net there arose such a clatter,
That I opened my E-mail to join in the chatter.
And spying a message with a hot news flash,
Quick down to the basement, I flew in a dash.
Cause the skies ore New England had not yielded snow
Extending the season for the cyclists below;
And what to my wondering eyes had appeared?
But an invitation to ride yet once more this year;
On singletracks frozen lively and quick,
That I knew in a moment, that I'm not really sick.
And over to Bow Ridge the bikers they flew
With bikes in their minivans and in station wagons too.
They met at a Naked Fish with a funny locked door
Two hours before Noon and not a minute before.
More rapid than eagles the bikers they came,
I cavorted, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now Marleen! Now, Bo! Now, Donna! Now, Dave!
On Lorenzo! On Andy! On all of you knaves!
To that big rock hill that looks like a wall!
Let’s ride away! Ride away! Ride away, all!"
And as dry leaves before a wind gust we’ll fly,
And bunny-hop obstacles, and climb to the sky.
Pausing at a trail junction we stopped to look around,
When somebody crashed and fell on the ground.
He landed in mud by a long slippery root.
He was covered in crud from his head to his foot.
His black boots were soaked and his red riding duds,
While matching and colorful were now covered with mud.
A big water pack was strapped to his back,
And he looked like a turtle hung up on its back.
His glasses were muddy; and knocked quite askew
His cheeks were half frozen and his nose was too!
But his mustached mouth was drawn up like a bow,
Though the muck on his chin was black as a crow.
The end of a hose he held tight in his teeth,
And the hose had encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a fat face and a gigantic round belly
That shook when he landed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a big heavy old elf,
And he laughed when we saw him, in spite of himself.
With a wink of his eye and a twist of his head
He gave us to know that he wasn't quite dead.
He spoke not a word but went straight to work,
Pulled a stick from his spokes and turned with a jerk,
His numb fingers reached to untangle the hose,
Then giving us a nod, the smeared biker arose.
He sprang to his bike, and straightened his gear,
He looked down the singletrack without any fear.
And to our group gave a loud whistle,
And away he flew like the down of a thistle.
Hammering his pedals with all of his might.
He turned and exclaimed, as he rode out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a great ride!”