*JOKER*
Basic User
- City
- Norfolk
- State
- VA
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the streets,
Not a vehicle was stirring, not even a Jeep;
The trails were repaired by Tread Lightly with care,
In hopes that Jeep CJs soon would be there;
The Jeepers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of obstacles danced in their heads;
After a full day of wheeling, I had broken my Jeep,
And settled down, disgusted, for a long winter's sleep.
When out in the mudpit there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
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 view to the mud-tire tracks down below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But eight CJ8s struggling with a sled to the rear,
With a little old man in the sleigh, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
Slinging big globs of mud, his coarsers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, MULESCJ8! now, KRISTYCJ8! now BADCJ8, and DONAGHY!
On, FLCJ8! on DADSCJ8! on, GREATCJ8 and FELNTPSY!
Through technical trail and swamp filled with mud!
Now air-down your tires and lock in your hubs!"
As engines revved high and the CJs did crawl,
It appeared that loose footing would cause them to stall,
Letting up on the throttle and shifting to 4 low,
The eight little Scramblers started to go.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard O'er my head
The parking of Scramblers (Jeeps with long beds).
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed in fur and wool and fleece,
And his clothes were all tarnished with oil and grease;
A bundle of Jeep parts he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a vendor just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled as he sifted through parts,
There where things for Fords, Chevys, Dodge Darts!
His droll little mouth was drawn up in a smile,
While the Scramblers above revved all the while;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And on the side of it were gold letters that spelled "JEEP;"
He had tools in his pocket, 7/16 and half inch,
That he carried for trailside repairs in a pinch.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly 4 wheeler,
And I laughed when I saw him pull out the curb-feelers;
Winth a wink of his eye, he pulled out the sockets,
And put the curb-feelers back in his pocket;
He spoke not a word, and with tools in his clenches,
He went straight to my CJ and began to turn wrenches,
When he finished, it looked like the rig of my dreams,
And while I stood silent, up the chimney he beamed;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a shout,
And through the thick mud, they crawled their way out.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"
MERRY CHRISTMAS, GUYS!
Not a vehicle was stirring, not even a Jeep;
The trails were repaired by Tread Lightly with care,
In hopes that Jeep CJs soon would be there;
The Jeepers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of obstacles danced in their heads;
After a full day of wheeling, I had broken my Jeep,
And settled down, disgusted, for a long winter's sleep.
When out in the mudpit there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
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 view to the mud-tire tracks down below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But eight CJ8s struggling with a sled to the rear,
With a little old man in the sleigh, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
Slinging big globs of mud, his coarsers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, MULESCJ8! now, KRISTYCJ8! now BADCJ8, and DONAGHY!
On, FLCJ8! on DADSCJ8! on, GREATCJ8 and FELNTPSY!
Through technical trail and swamp filled with mud!
Now air-down your tires and lock in your hubs!"
As engines revved high and the CJs did crawl,
It appeared that loose footing would cause them to stall,
Letting up on the throttle and shifting to 4 low,
The eight little Scramblers started to go.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard O'er my head
The parking of Scramblers (Jeeps with long beds).
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed in fur and wool and fleece,
And his clothes were all tarnished with oil and grease;
A bundle of Jeep parts he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a vendor just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled as he sifted through parts,
There where things for Fords, Chevys, Dodge Darts!
His droll little mouth was drawn up in a smile,
While the Scramblers above revved all the while;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And on the side of it were gold letters that spelled "JEEP;"
He had tools in his pocket, 7/16 and half inch,
That he carried for trailside repairs in a pinch.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly 4 wheeler,
And I laughed when I saw him pull out the curb-feelers;
Winth a wink of his eye, he pulled out the sockets,
And put the curb-feelers back in his pocket;
He spoke not a word, and with tools in his clenches,
He went straight to my CJ and began to turn wrenches,
When he finished, it looked like the rig of my dreams,
And while I stood silent, up the chimney he beamed;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a shout,
And through the thick mud, they crawled their way out.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"
MERRY CHRISTMAS, GUYS!
