No announcement yet.

My "Twas The Night Before Christmas"

  • Filter
  • Time
  • Show
Clear All
new posts

  • My "Twas The Night Before Christmas"

    Six years ago, I wrote a version of "Twas The Night Before Christmas" and posted it on the newsgroup. I long ago parted with the computer that it was written on (not to mention the Ford which is referenced in the poem, and we no longer live on Raintree Drive), but the poem lives on in cyberspace. I found it, after a brief Google search:

    There are other Studebaker-themed versions there, much better than mine, but here goes ... because, "Tis the season!"

    Twas the night before Christmas
    And all through the garage
    Not a Brand X was starting.
    Not even a click.

    The stockings were empty
    We had them to fill
    And the kids said "To Wal-Mart"
    "It's just down the hill!"

    But Mama with her flashlight
    And I in grease-covered clothes
    Couldn't get that darn Ford started
    Now why, do you suppose?

    When out on the lawn there arose a low rumble
    So smoothly it sounded.
    No roughness, no stumble.

    Away to the door I ran with great speed
    No longer giving my children any heed

    The lights of the neighbors' houses outside
    Danced brightly on something coming up Raintree Drive.

    When what to my wondering eyes should appear
    But a beautiful Studebaker filled with eight reindeer.
    With a little old driver so lively and quick
    I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

    They pulled in the drive, this strange entourage,
    To deliver a worthy machine to my garage.

    His eyes -- how they twinkled, his dimples so merry!
    His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
    His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
    And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

    He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
    And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
    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 harnessed up that old Ford; then turned with a jerk;
    He pushed the old car out of the garage with a smile,
    "This car's worn out, and has been a while!"

    "Enjoy your new car, son, and the family too,
    For it's not very often that car dreams come true!"

    He slipped behind the wheel and then gave a whistle,
    And away they all flew like the down of a thistle!
    But I heard him exclaim, ere the Ford clanked out of sight,


    If you haven't checked out Richard Quinn's revisiting of Bob Palma's Dad's wonderful advertisements, check the following thread ... this is what inspired me to look my poem up!


    Jacob Newkirk - Owensboro, KY

    KEEP AMERICA BEAUTIFUL! Drive a Studebaker!
    Jacob Newkirk - Owensboro, KY

    KEEP AMERICA BEAUTIFUL! Drive a Studebaker!