The Night Before Christmas
T'was the night before Christmas and out in the yard
not a British car was running; they'd been driven too hard
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care
in hopes that St. Leyland soon would be there
The children were nestled all snug in their beds
while visions of highways danced in their wee little heads
And Mama in her Nomex and I in mine, too
thought a cross-county rallye was the right thing to do
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
it was like a bad clutch; you know how they chatter
Away to the window I flew in a dash
into those panes I nearly did crash
Then what did my wondering eyes look at and see?
A miniature Rolls, Triumphs and Healeys, and a bunch of MGs
With a little old driver rantin' and ravin'
I knew in a moment it must be St. Leyland
More rapid than eagles his autos they came
as he yelled and screamed and called them by name
Now Spitfire, now Daimler, now Midget and Lagonda
On Riley, on Sterling, on Sprite and - oh NO - not a Honda?!
To the top of the garage, to the top of the wall
drive away, drive away, drive away all
So up to the house top the autos they flew
The Rolls full of car parts and St. Leyland, too
As I drew in my head and was turning around
down the chimney came St. Leyland with a bound
He was dressed like a mechanic from his head to his foot
and he reeked of WD-40 and ashes and soot
A great bunch of parts he had flung in his pack
with names like Lucas and Girling - I was taken aback
His nose, how it wrinkled! His eyes, how they could glisten!
Like the dealer's when he said, "You need a new transmission."
His feet they were covered in oil, which was kind of nifty
until I saw on my rugs footprints of 20W50
He was chubby and plump - a jolly old mechanic
but the sight of him would send my Triumph into a panic
He spoke not a word but took from his sack
a new Jaguar fender all painted in black
And putting his finger aside of his nose
in a wink, up the chimney he rose
He sprang to his Rolls, to his cars gave a whistle
And away they all flew like a Sidewinder missile
But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight
Merry Christmas and Happy British Motorcar Driving to All
copywrite 1992 Jim Finn 3364
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