Joe Chod
Husqvarna
Pro Class
THE (HUSKY) NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The bikes were all parked in the garage with care,
In hopes that our ice studs soon would be there;
The riders were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of stoppies danced in their heads;
And mamma in her Shift socks, and I in my Thor,
Had just settled down and started to snore,
When out on the lawn there arose such a BRAAAP!
I sprang from the bed and tripped over some crap.
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 I see,
But a new Husqvarna, a 250 TE !
With a quick bearded rider, I mean, Holy Moley !
I thought for a moment it must be Norm Foley.
More rapid than eagles his Two-stroke, it came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called out some names;
"Hey, Coffee! Hey, Ruwfo! And Joe Chod and Drew!
Hey Woodschick! Rajobigguy! You Husky T, you!
Over the whoops and up To the top of the hill!
Now give it some throttle! Yeah! What a thrill !"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with some knobbies, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the Husky it flew,
With a mighty roar and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a second, I heard over my head
The sound of a kickstand and Alpinestar tread.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in red gear, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all muddy and covered with soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His goggles were steamed up, his gloves were all killed,
(He said he’d get dry ones when he stopped off at a shop named Bills!)
He took off his helmet, and gave me a shrug,
When he saw he’d tracked dirt all across our new rug.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
When he saw he’d tracked dirt all across our new rug.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
I offered him cookies, but he said he’d pass;
He’d rather have Spectro and a tank full of gas,
He filled all the stockings with wonderful shit,
He filled all the stockings with wonderful shit,
But just left the Trellies, ‘cause they wouldn’t fit.
He left Husky parts, Camelbacks, blue and yellow new gear,
Spacers and sprockets, and dampeners to steer!
Chain guides and bar mounts and cool DVDs
Of enduros and WECs and ISDEs !
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his bike, ready to go,
And away he flew with huge roost of snow.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he wheelied out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his bike, ready to go,
And away he flew with huge roost of snow.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he wheelied out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."
