Twas the night before Christmas, and all thru the
                                             house
                                             Not a present in sight, I felt like a louse.
                                             I had scrounged high and low for that certain possession
                                             That could pass for a gift in this time of recession.
                                             
                                             But all that I owned was old and worn out,
                                             Surely nothing a child would get hyper about.
                                             And there in a pile on the dining room table
                                             Were all of the Christmas cards I'd forgotten to lable.
                                             
                                             "Bah, humbug", I grumbled, "What do I care?"
                                             I turned on the TV, collapsed in a chair.
                                             Then out on the lawn there arose such a roar
                                             I rushed down the hall, threw open the door.
                                             
                                             When, what to my wondering eyes should appear
                                             But a clean crimson Harley, overflowing with gear!
                                             With a little old rider so odd and so weird,
                                             Things were about to get worse, I suddenly feared.
                                             
                                             I slammed the door shut, dead-bolted the lock,
                                             Then at the back window I heard a soft knock.
                                             I dashed up the hall, alarmed at the sound,
                                             In thru the window he came with a bound.
                                             
                                             He was dressed in black leather, from his head to his boot.
                                             And thrown over his back was a bag full of loot.
                                             I let out a scream, but he whispered real quick,
                                             "Don't you recognize me? I'm good old St. Nick!"
                                             
                                             "St. Nick", I stammered, "No way, Jose!
                                             Where are your reindeer, where is your sleigh?"
                                             "I laid the deer off a few years ago.
                                             That darn global warming, there's too little snow.
                                             
                                             The sleigh, it got stuck in the mud and the muck,
                                             then Godzilla stepped on it, such was my luck.
                                             Now the reindeer stay home, quite safe and quite warm.
                                             I ride my old Harley, thru sleet and rain storm."
                                             
                                             He took off his helmet while thus softly speaking.
                                             His voice, it was calming, I was no longer freaking.
                                             He opened his bag, began unpacking the toys,
                                             Some pretty wild gifts for young girls and boys!
                                             
                                             His eyes, how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
                                             His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
                                             His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
                                             The sight was uncanny, he looked like Ross Perot!
                                             
                                             "Santa!", I exclaimed, "Where is your beard?
                                             You look kind of funny, you look a bit weird.
                                             And where is your round, fat little belly
                                             That shook when you laughed, like a bowl full of jelly?"
                                             
                                             "Ah, the milk and cookies", he said with a sigh,
                                             "I gave them all up, cholesterol's too high.
                                             And after all the new-fangled health hype,
                                             Well, it was really hard, but I gave up my pipe.
                                             
                                             As for the beard, it was always okay
                                             When I flew thru the night with reindeer and sleigh.
                                             But on the seat of a Harley, it's really quite sad,
                                             Most folks thought with the beard, I looked biker bad".
                                             
                                             So, laying a finger aside of his nose
                                             Santa nodd'ed and chuckled, "That's how she goes!"
                                             He dashed for the door, and went out with a leap,
                                             Leaving presents galore, piled nearly knee deep!
                                             
                                             He sprang to his bike, turned on the ignition,
                                             And away he flew, a roaring ghostly apparition.
                                             But I heard him exclaim, as he shifted up a gear,