'Twas the night before race day
                                             And all through the house
                                             There was bending of wrenches
                                             From hubby to spouse.
                                             
                                             The children were tucked
                                             All snug in their beds
                                             While visions of trophying
                                             Danced in their heads.
                                             
                                             The van in the driveway
                                             Was ready to go
                                             The leathers were polished
                                             The helmets aglow.
                                             
                                             Ma in her coveralls
                                             And Pa in his jeans
                                             Had just settled down
                                             To work on the machines.
                                             
                                             When from inside the engine
                                             There arose such a clatter
                                             He pulled off the head
                                             To see what was the matter.
                                             
                                             The light from the dropcord
                                             On the new polished head
                                             Showed nothing the matter
                                             But the engine was dead.
                                             
                                             When what to his wondering
                                             Eyes should appear
                                             But a busted up crank
                                             And worn out main gear.
                                             
                                             He knew in a moment
                                             He must find the trick
                                             To keep his scoot running
                                             So rapid and quick.
                                             
                                             "My spanner, my sockets
                                             Put the light over here
                                             Wife quit your bitchin'
                                             Now hand me a beer".
                                             
                                             He spoke not a word
                                             But went straight to his work
                                             Repaired the trouble
                                             And turned with a jerk,
                                             
                                             And laying his Coors can
                                             Aside at his feet
                                             Exclaimed with great pride
                                             "I'll never be beat".
                                             
                                             They heard him yell
                                             As he drove out of sight
                                             "Tomorrow I'll be first"
                                             And they knew he was right,
                                             
                                             For whenever he raced
                                             He raced with his heart
                                             But on Sunday morning