desteig
12-17-2008, 09:22 PM
'Twas the night before Christmas, and out on the trails
Mountain bikers gathered on their 29er hard tails
The HIDs mounted on their helmets with care,
In hopes we would see Lori crash over there;
The riders were moving and looking ahead,
While visions of sweet single track danced in their heads;
And Maria on her Cannondale , and I on my Epic,
Had just settled down for a long winter's ride,
When out on the trail there arose such a clatter,
I cranked on the pedals to see what was the matter.
Away down the path I flew like a flash,
Tearing up the trails as I traveled to fast.
The moon on the breast of the milky white sand
Glowed in the dark in this Florida flatland
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Giant Anthem , off the trail it had veered
It appears the rider was moving too quick,
I knew in a moment the trail must be slick.
The rest of the riders gathered as they came,
And we whistled, and shouted, and called her by name;
"Now, Nate! now, Dan! now, Eric and Dave!
Come,Larry! Come Maria ! Come, Allen and Mark!
To the top of the hill! Run don’t stall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, bunny hop to the sky,
So up to the hill-top the searchers they flew,
With the first aid kit, and a couple of goos.
And then, in a twinkling, I hear to my right
Some moaning and wheezing off in the night.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
I notice a rider and off the trail on the ground.
She was dressed all in lycra, from her head to her foot,
and her body had come to rest next to a root;
A bundle of leaves had stuck to her back,
she didn’t look broken she seemed intact.
Her eyes -- how they were glossy! her helmet was broke !
Her cheeks were all flushed, her nose was no joke!
The drool flowed from her mouth and gathered below,
And the sand on her chin was as white as snow;
The piece of a stump she held tight in her teeth,
As the steam encircled her head like a wreath;
She had moss on her face and dirt on her belly,
The essence of blood and sweat left her quite smelly.
Next to the tree the rider did slump, standing no taller than a Christmas elf,
but I laughed when I saw her, in spite of myself;
A wink of her eye and a twist of her head,
Soon gave me to know she was not dead;
She spoke not a word, and breathing was work,
She got to her feet; then turned with a jerk,
And laying her finger aside of her nose,
And giving a nod, up the trail she rode;
She sprang to her bike, to the rest she gave a whistle,
And away they all rode like the down of a thistle.
But I heard her exclaim, ere she rode out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."
Mountain bikers gathered on their 29er hard tails
The HIDs mounted on their helmets with care,
In hopes we would see Lori crash over there;
The riders were moving and looking ahead,
While visions of sweet single track danced in their heads;
And Maria on her Cannondale , and I on my Epic,
Had just settled down for a long winter's ride,
When out on the trail there arose such a clatter,
I cranked on the pedals to see what was the matter.
Away down the path I flew like a flash,
Tearing up the trails as I traveled to fast.
The moon on the breast of the milky white sand
Glowed in the dark in this Florida flatland
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Giant Anthem , off the trail it had veered
It appears the rider was moving too quick,
I knew in a moment the trail must be slick.
The rest of the riders gathered as they came,
And we whistled, and shouted, and called her by name;
"Now, Nate! now, Dan! now, Eric and Dave!
Come,Larry! Come Maria ! Come, Allen and Mark!
To the top of the hill! Run don’t stall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, bunny hop to the sky,
So up to the hill-top the searchers they flew,
With the first aid kit, and a couple of goos.
And then, in a twinkling, I hear to my right
Some moaning and wheezing off in the night.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
I notice a rider and off the trail on the ground.
She was dressed all in lycra, from her head to her foot,
and her body had come to rest next to a root;
A bundle of leaves had stuck to her back,
she didn’t look broken she seemed intact.
Her eyes -- how they were glossy! her helmet was broke !
Her cheeks were all flushed, her nose was no joke!
The drool flowed from her mouth and gathered below,
And the sand on her chin was as white as snow;
The piece of a stump she held tight in her teeth,
As the steam encircled her head like a wreath;
She had moss on her face and dirt on her belly,
The essence of blood and sweat left her quite smelly.
Next to the tree the rider did slump, standing no taller than a Christmas elf,
but I laughed when I saw her, in spite of myself;
A wink of her eye and a twist of her head,
Soon gave me to know she was not dead;
She spoke not a word, and breathing was work,
She got to her feet; then turned with a jerk,
And laying her finger aside of her nose,
And giving a nod, up the trail she rode;
She sprang to her bike, to the rest she gave a whistle,
And away they all rode like the down of a thistle.
But I heard her exclaim, ere she rode out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."