'Twas the night before Christmas, when
                                             all through my house
                                             There were hopes of new sprockets, from Renthal or Krause;
                                             Rad Cages and Gold Valves all fitted with care,
                                             Creating new horsepower to jump here and jump there;
                                             
                                             The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
                                             While on XR's and CR's they played in their heads;
                                             And mom in her Fox shirt and I in No-Fear,
                                             Had just settled in for the snooze of the Year,
                                             
                                             When from a four -stroke there arose such a clatter,
                                             I thought that it's valve train would soon for sure shatter.
                                             With speeds I've not seen, I was sure it would crash,
                                             This BLUE want to be 2-stroke disappeared in a flash!
                                             
                                             I peered out the window to the street down below'
                                             Could this be a bike or just yellow snow,
                                             When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
                                             But a Man on an RM sporting Red and White gear,
                                             
                                             With that little old rider, so lively and quick,
                                             I knew in a moment that this bike was trick!.
                                             With Excel and Sunline , RG3 and Tag,
                                             It looked to be from an MXA wish bag;
                                             
                                             "Now, Sunstar! now, Pro-line! now, Answer and Hinson!
                                             On, O'Neal! on N-style! on, Wisecoco Forged Pistons!
                                             Things dreams are made of from bars to wheels!
                                             Afforded by all, That is if we STEAL!!"
                                             
                                             As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
                                             When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
                                             So up to the take-off the Riders they flew,
                                             With bikes filled with VP, Pre-mixed with Casterol too.
                                             
                                             And then, in a twinkling, I heard from the roof
                                             Someone hitting the Chimney with an audible OOF!.
                                             As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
                                             Who else but Seth Enslow would fall to the ground.
                                             
                                             He was covered in tin-foil, from his head to his foot,
                                             Like an Alien Pot Pie all covered in soot;
                                             A bundle of bike parts strapped to his back,
                                             You would think it was Jeffro smuggling crack. 
                                             (I know That was low but I needed a rhyme)
                                             
                                             His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
                                             This isn't Fro, MY GOD it's TIM FERRY!,!
                                             His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
                                             On his 426 how fast could he go;
                                             
                                             Bouncing the back wheel off the stump of a tree,
                                             Into the forest he rode laughing with glee!
                                             And close behind but gaining fast,
                                             Jimmy the Elf on his 02 Gas Gas
                                             
                                             There was Larocco and Travis ,  Kdub and Mac,
                                             Clearing the drifts like a Supercross track;
                                             Degan and Mad Mike tried to give it a wack ,
                                             by busting out crazed version of a twisted Nac-Nac;
                                             
                                             When out of the east midst the flora and fauna ,
                                             came the smallest elf yet on a blazing fast Honda,
                                             A wee button nose and rosy red cheeks ,
                                             It was Ricky Clause the hardest to beat ;
                                             
                                             He sprang with his bike, above all the rest,
                                             With a grin on his face and a One on his chest.
                                             But I heard him exclaim, ere he rode out of sight,