I love it!
Gordon Glasgow
Renton, WA
www.gordon-glasgow.org
"The difference between what we do
and what we are capable of doing
would suffice to solve most of the world's problems."
- Mahatma Gandhi
> -----Original Message-----
> From: owner-datsun-roadsters@Autox.Team.Net
> [mailto:owner-datsun-roadsters@Autox.Team.Net]On Behalf Of
> RHCsports@aol.com
> Sent: Saturday, December 23, 2006 10:54 PM
> To: datsun-roadsters@autox.team.net
> Subject: Roadster Christmas Poetry
>
>
> I happened to write this, this week before checking the list. I
> thought I was
> the lone poet, but I'm glad others are inspired also this time of year.
> Here's "Mr. K's Christmas Visit."
>
> 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the garage
> Not a battery was humming, not even a charge;
> The hammers were hung by the wrenches with care,
> In hopes that Mr.K soon would be there;
> The Datsuns were nestled all snug with their Falkens,
> While visions of Nitrous raced in their valve covers;
> And Fairlady in her soft top, and I in my cap,
> Had just drained our gas tank for a long winterbs nap,
> When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
> I sprang from under the car to see what was the matter.
> Away to the window I flew like a flash,
> Tore open the garage door and moved that old dash.
> When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
> But a 67.5 2000, with panasports front and rear,
> With a little old driver, so lively and gray,
> I knew in a moment it must be Mr. K.
> More rapid than eagles his challengers they came,
> And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
> "Now, MG! now, Triumph! now, Alfa and Benz!
> On, GM! on, Chrysler! on, Mustang and friends!
> To the top of the lane! to the top of the strip!
> Now drive away! drive away! Come on let her Rip!"
> So up to the drag strip the challengers they flew,
> With the Fairlady in front, and Mr. K. driving too.
> And then, in a roar, the solexes opened up.
> He let out the clutch, and she started to gallup.
> As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
> Down the street and into my garage Mr. K came with a bound.
> He was dressed in BRE, from his head to his foot,
> And his clothes were all tarnished with Grease and soot;
> A bundle of Ball Joints he had flung on his back,
> And he looked like a Datsun Dealer just opening his pack.
> Those headlightsbhow they twinkled! his horn sounded so merry!
> That paint was like glass, his Roadster was cherry!
> The clean little grill was as straight as a line
> And the chrome on the bumpers was just as fine;
> The stump of a smog pump 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,
> And his seatbelt barely fit that bowlful of jelly.
> He was happy and windblown, a right jolly old elf,
> His top was always down, speakers on the package shelf;
> A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
> Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
> He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
> And signed over the pink slip; then handed me a zerk,
> And laying the key on top of the hood,
> And giving a thumbs up, like I knew he would;
> He sprang to his feet, got ready to go,
> And then thought again, there was something I should know,
> b You keep that Dear Lady, Take care of her well,
> "Tune her up, grease the joints, and donbt EVER sell."
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