T’was the night before Christmas, and all round the track
Not an air wrench was stirring, the lines were all slack
The gloves were all hung on the tool boards with care
In hopes that Daytona soon would be there
The crews were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of Sprint Cups danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief and I in an old Allison cap
Had just settled down to fool around, you know like we used ‘ta
When out of turn four there arose such clatter
I sprang up off ma to see what was the matter
Away to the pits I flew like a flash
Stopped and hid behind a can full of trash
When what to my wondering eyes should appear?
But some big fat dude surrounded by a herd of deer
They were all dressed like drivers wearing helmets of red
Sitting in stock cars ready to go head to head.
The fat man stood in front and showing no shame
He whistled and shouted then called them by name:
“Now Dasher, now Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen!
“Ok Comet! Ok Cupid! On Donner and Blitzen!”
“Start up them engines! Let’s keep it off the wall!
“Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
They took off in a fury, that fat dude laughing when they went by.
When they got the green flag it was a heck of a sight,
Racing door to door through that cold winter night,
More rapid than eagles his coursers they flew,
Then the fat dude jumped in the pace car, (Guess he decided that he’d race too!)
He’d caught the field within one lap,
And whenever he came by I could hear him laugh.
Then to my amazement he began to set them back.
One by one he passed all those deer and lapped the whole pack.
I laughed as I watched him in spite of myself
Thinking of all the weird die-cast we could put on a shelf!
They got the white flag; there was one lap to go
Then strangely, without reason, it started to snow.
The moon on the breast of this new fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to the cars in the show
In to turn three the cars they did roar
Then a fog bank rolled in and I could see them no more.
I cocked my head and turned my ear
Strained and strained and tried to hear.
Were they coming onto the front stretch, I tired to tell
When suddenly I heard the sound of jingle bells.
Out of the fog directly above
Came the eight tiny reindeer harnessed all in a drove.
The old fat dude was being pulled behind,
Flying in a sleigh and our eyes met, his and mine.
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
His eyes how they twinkled, his dimples how merry
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
Why that little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
As they crossed the finish line and then flew over
I heard him shout “Ok boys next race, it’s on to Dover!”
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up off the first turn he rose.
He waved from his sleigh, then gave his team a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”
Greg is the author of "The Nuts and Bolts of NASCAR: The Definitive Viewers' Guide to Big-Time Stock Car Auto Racing" and has been published in major publications across the country including the Los Angeles Times, the Cleveland Plain Dealer and the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. He was also a contributor to Chicken Soup for the NASCAR Soul, published in 2010, and the Christmas edition in 2016. He wrote as the NASCAR, Formula 1, Auto Reviews and National Veterans Affairs Examiner for Examiner.com and has appeared on Fox News. He holds a BS degree in communications, a Masters degree in psychology and is currently a PhD candidate majoring in psychology. He is currently the weekend Motorsports Editor for Autoweek.
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