|
T'was the night before
Christmas and all through the land
not a Mini was stirring, they were all up on stands.
The tires were stacked by the garage with care
In hopes that Minilights soon would be there
The engines were nestled all snug in their bays
While visions of summer filled all their days
And Mom in her race suit, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down to a good Mini chat.
When out on the lawn there arose such a racket,
It sounds just like a worn out set of tappets.
Away to the window I flew like a Cooper,
Tore open the shutters and drew up in a stupor.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Looked like the gleam of a new paint job below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Morris Mini and four tiny cylin-deers.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment the car was most likely nicked.
More slowly than Ford Escorts these horses they came,
and he cursed and complained, and called them by name;
"Now, Austin! Now, Lucas! Now, Cooper and Morris!
To the top of first gear, to the top of the tach,
Don't blow the muffler off out the back"
So up the lane way the Morris it drove,
With the boot full of Mini parts, a real treasure trove.
And then in a twinkling, I heard a great bash,
the single leading brakes had allowed a big crash.
As I drew out my insurance and feeling quite down
Through the hole came Nick wearing a frown.
He was dressed all in leather, as befitting his toil,
and his clothes were all covered in old engine oil.
A bundle of parts he had jammed in a sack,
And he looked like a dealer ready to un-pack.
His eyes - how they mis-focused! his pupils, how large!
His cheeks were like BMC rosettas, His nose like a barge.
His loose little lips were drooling on his shirt,
And the beard of his chin was covered in dirt.
The stump of an exhaust pipe he held in his hand,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a band.
He had a bored little face and a flat little tummy
That flexed when he spit in my bowl full of jelly.
He was all business and markups, a right cursed old blighter,
And I laughed out of fear for I knew my wallet would be lighter.
With a rub of his fingers and a twist of my wrist,
Soon gave me to know I be taking a risk.
He spoke not a word, and went straight to my grille,
And filled all my wants; then handed me my bill.
And laying a finger inside of his nose,
And giving a shove, out the hole he goes.
He jumped in his Mini, ground the starter and stated,
"Merry Christmas to All, and I see you again sooner than Later"

|