The Night Before Christmas T'was the night before Christmas, and all round the house, Not a VeeDub was running, I felt like a louse The stockings were hung by the chimney with care in hopes that St. Wolfsburg soon would be there The children were nestled all snug in their beds while visions of Campers danced in their wee heads And Mama in her flannel and I in mine, too, thought a cross-county bus tour was a neat thing to do When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter like sounds of a bad clutch; you know how they chatter Away to the window I flew like a flash i loosened the locks and threw open the sash And what to my wondering eyes did appear? But a Volkswagen bus, of the earlier years With a little old driver so pudgy and round that i knew in a moment St. Wolfsburg I'd found And pulling the Bus, through the snow and the cold, was an octet of Beetles, so proud and so bold More rapid than turtles, they strained as they came as he yelled and he screamed and he called them by name Now Sunroof, now Oval, now Super, and Sunbug On Verti, on Kuebel, on Karmann, and Goldbug To the top of the carport, to the top of the wall drive away, drive away, drive away all So up to the rooftop this convoy then flew The Bus full of car parts and the Beetles were, too As I drew in my head and was turning around from the chimney St. Wolfsburg came out with a bound He was dressed as mechanics, from his head to his foot and he reeked of old motor oil and ashes and soot A huge bunch of car parts he had stuffed in his sack marked VeeDub and Bosch - I was taken aback His face was all wrinkled, his eyes so dejected like he'd been told his repairs were more than expected His feet were all covered with oil, which was dripping all over my carpet where he had been tripping He was rotund and jolly, a competent mech, but my room now was filthy, a horrible wreck He spoke not a word but went straight to his work, with his butt-crack all showing, like some plumber, the jerk! Then putting his finger aside of his nose with a wink and a nod, up the chimney he rose He sprang to his Bus, fixed his seatbelt, and farted Then hit the ignition, and up they all started But I heard him exclaim ere he drove round the side Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good ride! apologies to Mr. Moore (original author) and Jim Finn (who adapted it for British Cars, 1992) <and from whom i shamelessly stole the idea :) >
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