TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
…and all through the woods
of that property that was once had
race motors under the hoods….
a group of old racers were wandering around…
looking for memories where it was all torn down.
Not a motor was running,not even a blip
The lanes weren’t stacked ,not one with care,
no hope that the starter would soon be there.
More racers were nestled at home in their beds,
While visions of burnouts danced in their heads.
And mamma in her race tee, and I in mine too
Had just settled down for a long winter’s snooze
When out on the lawn there arose such a roar
I sprang up to see if I could see more
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
When up in the sky, what do I see?
But eight Big Block Chevys.. I thought I would Pee.
Behind them Was Nick in his T Bucket ride,
jamming the gears with a little clutch slide.
His Gift was the memories,The Dover Guys had,
from the first day it opened’, to that last day ,so sad.
But in the northeast …and all through the land
The Dover guys knew ,they had a new plan.
The word was out, that soon back in town,
the race guys were coming to party it down.
From Island to Lebanon they still do their act
every year you can see them and that is a fact.
so That Jolly old sole in his modified Sleigh,
with eight blown motors
was making his way….when out of the sky ,
he announced as he sped ….Merry Christmas To all !
Now go back to bed…..
See you In Sept And We’ll Do It Again.