My version of The Night Before Christmas.

[Gregor]

I was feeling the Christmas Spirit so I whipped up this version about my Dart.

Twas the night before Christmas and down in the garage
Not an engine was purring not even a Dodge
The Scat Pack Bee was snug in his bed
While visions of burnouts danced in his head
With stabilized fuel and trickle charge too
Myself and my woman were snuggled in too
When down in the garage there arose sound of starter
My pulse quickened up as my heart beat harder
I leapt from the bed and ran down the stairs
As the engine caught life, and prickled my hairs
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But the Scat Pack Bee grabbing first gear
As the Dart peeled out, he let out a shout
Thanks for leaving the key, you overgrown lout
And a Merry Christmas to all as I do a burnout!

Christmas 2017

 

[Jadaharabi]

And a Merry Chriztmas to all as I do a burnout!
Then
How he gave a great shout.
. For my cars are equiped with fuel cutouts.
Now they're in jail and we're back in bed.
With visions of Mopars dancing in our heads.

 

[famous bob]

And a Merry Chriztmas to all as I do a burnout!
Then
How he gave a great shout.
. For my cars are equiped with fuel cutouts.
Now they're in jail and we're back in bed.
With visions of Mopars dancing in our heads.

you need something to do ! ( LIKE I DON`T!) LOL

 

[Jadaharabi]

you need something to do ! ( LIKE I DON`T!) LOL

I had to change the ending because I couldn't stand the thought of him losing his cars to thieves.

 

[diymirage]

couple more versions (as posted before by our members)

(plum crazy dart)
Twas the night before Christmas and I was so bored,
There wasn't a trace of a Chevy or a Ford.
The presents were wrapped and the lights were all lit,
So I figured I'd mess with my Dodge for a bit.
I popped the release and I lifted the hood,
... When a deep voice behind me said "looks pretty good."
Well, as you can imagine, I turned mighty quick,
And there, by the workbench, stood good ol Saint Nick!
We stood there a bit, not too sure what to say,
Then he said "don't suppose that you'd trade for my sleigh?
I said "no way, Santa" and started to grin,
"But if you've got the time we could go for a spin!"
His round little mouth, all tied up like a bow,
Turned into a smile and he said "Hey! Let's go!!"
So as not to disturb all the neighbors' retreat,
We pushed the Charger quietly into the street,
Then, taking our places to roll down the hill,
I turned on the key and I let the clutch spill.
The sound that erupted took him by surprise,
But he liked it a lot, by the look in his eyes.
With Hoosier`s a' crying and side pipes aglow,
We headed to Summit, where the hot rodders go.
And Santa's grin widened, approaching his ears,
With every up shift, as I went through the gears.
Then he yelled "can't recall when I've felt so alive!",
So I backed off the gas and said "you wanna drive?"
Ol Santa was stunned when I gave him the keys,
When he walked past the headlights he shook at the knees!
Then the big block exploded with side exhaust sound!
Santa let out the clutch and the tires shook the ground!
Power shift into second, again into third!
I sat there just watching, at loss for a word,
Then I heard him exclaim as we blasted from sight,
"Merry Christmas to all...........what a great night!!!"


(dustermaniac)
'Twas the night before Christmas--Old Santa was pissed.
He cussed out the elves and threw down his list.
Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks.
I ha...va good mind to scrap the whole works!
I've busted my *** for damn near a year, Instead of "Thanks Santa"--what do I hear?
The old lady bitches cause I work late at night.
The elves want more money--The reindeer all fight.
Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids.
Donner is pregnant and Vixen has AIDS.
And just when I thought that things would get better,
Those assholes from the IRS sent me a letter,
They say I owe taxes--if that ain't damn funny.
Who the hell ever sent Santa Claus any money?
And the kids these days--they all are the pits.
They want the impossible--Those mean little *****.
I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds Assembling dolls...Their arms, legs and heads.
I made a ton of yo yo's--No request for them,
They want computers and robots...they think - I'm IBM!
Flying through the air...dodging the trees
Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees
I'm quitting this job there's just no enjoyment
I'll sit on my fat *** and draw unemployment.
There's no Christmas this year now you know the reason,
I found me a blonde. I'm going SOUTH for the season.


(de69cuda)
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the skies,
Air defenses were up, with electronic eyes.
Combat pilots were nestled in ready-room beds,
As enemy silhouettes danced in their heads.


Every jet on the apron, each SAM in its tube,
Was triply-redundant linked to the Blue Cube,
And ELINT and AWACS gave coverage so dense,
That nothing that flew could slip through our defense.


When out of the klaxon arose such a clatter,
I dashed to the screen to see what was the matter,
I dialed up the gain and then quick as a flash,
Fine-adjusted the filters to damp out the hash.


And there found the source of the warning we’d heeded,
An incoming blip, by eight escorts preceded.
“Alert status red!” went the word down the wire,
As we gave every system the codes that meant “FIRE”!


On Aegis! Up Hornets, Eagles and IADS!
Scramble our fighters—let’s send the whole flock!
Launch decoys and missiles! Use chaff by the yard!
Get the kitchen sink up! Call the National Guard!


They turned toward the target, moved toward it, converged,
Till the tracks on the radar all finally merged,
And the sky was lit up with a demonic light,
As the foe met his fate in the high arctic night.


So we sent out some recon to look for debris,
Yet all that they found, both on land and on sea,
Were some toys, a red hat, a charred left leather boot,
Broken sleigh bells, white hair, and a deer’s parachute.


Now it isn’t quite Christmas, with Saint Nick shot down,
There are unhappy kids in each village and town.
For the Spirit of Christmas can’t hope to evade,
All the web of defenses we’ve carefully made.


Just look at how the gadgets we use to protect us,
In other ways alter, transform, and affect us.
They keep us from things that make life more worth living,
Like love for each other, and thoughts of just giving.


But a crash program’s on: Working hard, night and day,
All the elves are conducting a radar-proof sleigh.
So let’s wait for next Christmas, in cheer and in health,
For the future has hope: Santa’s coming by stealth!


(SCredneck)
Twas the night before christmas and caught at the light,
was a domestic v8 and no cops in sight.
I will try, I will try, I will try with this small motor,
to beat this damn Mopar, even with its big blower.
As the light goes green and I pull like no joke.
The Mopar erupts in clouds of tire smoke.
Now smasher, now rev-ver, now stroker, now blitzin,
these are the names of my four vtec pistons.
Racing ahead I'm the star of the action,
but I know I'm in trouble when that bigblock gets traction.
Grabbing second, I hear the rpm sing.
My mirror is blocked by my shopping cart wing.
I now hear the roar, of that big monster gaining.
All I can do is keep that four banger straining.
In a second, the shockwave hits with a blast,
and my stickers go flying, now a thing of the past.
Don't bother with third, cause now it's too late.
Just try and act cool, like you can relate.
Looking up at the taillights as they get smaller,
the driver backs off just to give me a holler.
"you can't win them all," he says in a fling.
"you may not win any in that silly thing.
I smiled and revved as he pulled out of sight,
with my new mods, tomorrow will be a better night.


(de69cuda , again)

(intellectuals version)
'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual yuletide celebration, and throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as Mus musculus. Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood-burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas.
The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebra. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal cranial coverings, were about to take slumbrous advantage of the hibernal darkness when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof.
Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing the fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline aqueous precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar meridian itself -- thus permitting my incredulous optical sensor to peruse a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by an octet of diminutive specimens of the genus Rangifer, piloted by a miniscule, aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With his undulate motive power traveling at what may possibly have been more vertiginous velocity than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly, expelled breath musically through contracted labia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respective cognomen ... "Now Dasher, now Dancer..." et al. -- guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure I could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities.
As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved -- with utmost celerity and via a downward leap -- entry by way of the smoke passage. He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled by the ebon residue from the oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle.
His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of his molar regions and nasal aptenance were engorged with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the former approximating the coloration of Albion's floral emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their ambient hirsuite facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water.
Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smokingpiece whose gray fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container.
Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned hosiery with articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this task, he executed an abrupt about-face, placed a single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith affected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage. He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility: "Ecstatic yuletides to the planetary constituence, and to that self-same assemblage my sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and dawn."



Lawyer's Night Before (Legally Speaking)

Whereas, on or about the night prior to Christmas, there did occur at a
certain improved piece of real property (hereinafter "the House") a
general lack of stirring by all creatures therein, including, but not limited to a mouse.
A variety of foot apparel, e.g. stocking, socks, etc., had been affixed
by and around the chimney in said House in the hope and/or belief that
St.Nick a/k/a St. Nicholas a/k/a Santa Claus (hereinafter "Claus") would arrive
at some time thereafter.
The minor residents, i.e. the children, of the aforementioned House,
were located in their individual beds and were engaged in nocturnal
hallucinations, i.e. dreams, wherein vision of confectionery treats,
including, but not limited to, candies, nuts and/or sugar plums, did
dance, cavort and otherwise appear in said dreams.
Whereupon the party of the first part (sometimes hereinafter referred to
as "I"), being the joint-owner in fee simple of the House with the parts
of the second part (hereinafter "Mamma"), and said Mamma had retired
for a sustained period of sleep. (At such time, the parties were clad in
various forms of headgear, e.g. kerchief and cap.)
Suddenly, and without prior notice or warning, there did occur upon the
unimproved real property adjacent and appurtenant to said House, i.e. the
lawn, a certain disruption of unknown nature, cause and/or circumstance.
The party of the first part did immediately rush to a window in the
House to investigate the cause of such disturbance.
At that time, the party of the first part did observe, with some degree
of wonder and/or disbelief, a miniature sleigh (hereinafter the
"Vehicle") being pulled and/or drawn very rapidly through the air by approximately
eight (8) reindeer. The driver of the Vehicle appeared to be and in fact was, the previously referenced Claus.
Said Claus was providing specific direction, instruction and guidance
to the approximately eight (8) reindeer and specifically identified the animal
co-conspirators by name: Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid,
Donner and Blitzen (hereinafter the "Deer"). (Upon information and belief,
it is further asserted that an additional co-conspirator named "Rudolph" may have been involved.)
The party of the first part witnessed Claus, the Vehicle and the Deer
intentionally and willfully trespass upon the roofs of several residences
located adjacent to and in the vicinity of the House, and noted that the
Vehicle was heavily laden with packages, toys and other items of unknown origin or nature.
Suddenly, without prior invitation or permission, either express or
implied, the Vehicle arrived at the House, and Claus entered said House
via the chimney. Said Claus was clad in a red fur suit, which was
partially covered with residue from the chimney, and he carried a large
sack containing a portion of the aforementioned packages, toys, and other unknown items.
He was smoking what appeared to be tobacco in a small pipe in blatant
violation of local ordinances and health regulations. Claus did not
speak, but immediately began to fill the stocking of the minor children,
which hung adjacent to the chimney, with toys and other small gifts.
(Said items did not, however, constitute "gifts" to said minor pursuant
to the applicable provisions of the U.S Tax Code.)
Upon completion of such task, Claus touched the side of his nose and
flew, rose and/or ascended up the chimney of the House to the roof where
the Vehicle and Deer waited and/or served as "lookouts." Claus
immediately departed for an unknown destination.
However, prior to the departure of the Vehicle, Deer and Claus from said
House, the party of the first part did hear Claus state and/or exclaim:
"Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!" Or words to that effect.

(Xcptshnl1)
A parent's night before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house
I searched for the tools to hand to my spouse.
Instructions were studied and we were inspired,
In hopes we could manage "Some Assembly Required."
The children were quiet (not asleep) in their beds,
While Dad and I faced the evening with dread:
A kitchen, two bikes, Barbie's town house to boot!
And, thanks to Grandpa, a train with a toot!


We opened the boxes, my heart skipped a beat....
Let no parts be missing or parts incomplete!
Too late for last-minute returns or replacement;
If we can't get it right, it goes in the basement!

When what to my worrying eyes should appear,
But 50 sheets of directions, concise, but not clear,
With each part numbered and every slot named,
So if we failed, only we could be blamed.

More rapid than eagles the parts then fell out,
All over the carpet they were scattered about.
"Now bolt it! Now twist it! Attach it right there!
Slide on the seats, and staple the stair!
Hammer the shelves, and nail to the stand."
"Honey," said hubby, "you just glued my hand."

And then in a twinkling, I knew for a fact
That all the toy dealers had indeed made a pact
To keep parents busy all Christmas Eve night
With "assembly required" till morning's first light.

We spoke not a word, but kept bent at our work,
Till our eyes, they went bleary; our fingers all hurt.
The coffee went cold and the night, it wore thin
Before we attached the last rod and last pin.

Then laying the tools away in the chest,
We fell into bed for a well-deserved rest.
But I said to my husband just before I passed out,
"This will be the best Christmas, without any doubt.

Tomorrow we'll cheer, let the holiday ring,
And not have to run to the store for a thing!
We did it! We did it! The toys are all set
For the perfect, most perfect, Christmas, I bet!"

Then off to dreamland and sweet repose I gratefully went,
Though I suppose there's something to say for those self-deluded...
I'd forgotten that batteries are never included!

 

[Gregor]

Wow those are really good.
Thanks for putting them up.

 

[gdrill]

And here's my contribution:

Twas the night before Christmas, and out in the shop
Dad messed with the steering, trying to take out the slop
He played with the caster, the camber and toe
When he slipped off the adjuster, I heard him say Doh!

The wrench hit the floor, and slid under the engine
His knuckles now bleeding, his words I won't mention
Short of a bandage, he went for a drink
Cracked open a cold one, and sat down by the sink

He rinsed off the blood, the cuts were just small
Black tape and paper towel, took care of it all
Back to the car, he reached under for the wrench
He couldn't quite reach, so he set his beer on the bench

He laid down on the floor, and stretched as far as he could
He managed to reach it, but it didn't feel good
The box end had broken, cheesy tools he thought
I should have known better, I paid for what I got

Back to the bench, for another swig of beer
He gazed out the window, and noticed a deer
That's kind of strange, he thought to himself
He looked back at the car, and there was an elf

His beer hit the floor, and spilled all over the place
Thinking he must be dreaming, he slapped his own face
The elf started laughing, and in a calm voice
He told dad to relax, leave it to him and the boys

Before he could blink, or gather his thoughts
Three more little elves, showed up in the shop
They started to work, without hesitation
One looked at Dad and said, I see your frustration

You would never have gotten rid of the slop
Lucky for you, we brought our tools from the shop
The steering box is shot, as well as the ball joints
But we got em in the sleigh, along with some new points

That's funny Dad said, as he leaned on the railing
How did you know, the ignition was failing
It's been starting tough, and that's what I dread
It cranks and it cranks, til the battery is dead

The lead elf looked up, and said with a sneer
We've watched you all year, and that's why we're here
You've been a good father, and your family loves you
So we're here to reward you, that's what we do

The wrenches they turned, and you could hear the elves giggle
When they finished their work, nothing would wiggle
The steering was tight, alignment dead on
One jumped in the seat, and turned the key on

With a flick of the switch, the engine sounded way better
Dad looked under the hood, and saw brand new headers
He stared in amazement, and listened to the sound
When he turned back to thank them, no one was around

He raced to the window, and wouldn't you know
The deer it was gone, but there were sleigh tracks in the snow
He looked up to the sky, and what did he see
But twelve little reindeer, escaping the scene

He ran out the door, and yelled at the top of his lungs
Thank you my friends, you don't know what you've done
That's when he heard, a voice yelling back
If you think you're happy now, wait till you get to the track!


Alternate ending

He raced to the window, and wouldn't you know
There was no little deer, and no tracks in the snow
He sat there and wondered, just what he had seen
Musta punched himself in the head, and went into a dream

It started making sense, when he took a pause
It just couldn't be, because he is Santa Claus
So he went into the house, just as sneaky as an elf
And grabbed from the tree, what he'd bought for himself

This new set of wrenches, would come in real handy
The fact that they ratchet, is even more dandy
He started to think, and in his inside voice
He said next year maybe Santa, will bring me hoist!!

Here's one for my brothers in the oilpatch. I wrote this in '89 sitting on a rig on Christmas eve, as many of us have done.

The Night Before Christmas
At the rig!

Twas the night before Christmas
And all over the lease
Not a roughneck was moving
They were all sitting at ease

The shacks were all clean
The kelly was high
The digger sat back
And let out a sigh

When all of a sudden
We heard a loud blast
Our volume was up
We were taking on gas

We took quite a kick
Almost out of control
But the driller was quick
To shut in the hole

We opened the choke
To circ the degasser
But despite all our efforts
It kept coming faster

The chokes were both washed
Casing pressure was tops
We had no other choice
But to blow the **** off

Then someone saw
Something at the flare pit
The roughneck yelled "run"
When he saw it was St. Nick

The mud hit the pit
Just missing Santa's ***
We heard him say as he flew away
"Thanks for the gas"

Merry Christmas To You All