Twas the night before Christmas,and all through my pad, there was nada happening,now man that's a drag. The woodstove was hung with that stocking routine, in hopes that the fat boy would soon make the scene. With our stomach's packed with taco's and beer, My girl and i crashed on the couch for some cheer. When out in the yard there arose such a racket' i ran to the door and put on my jacket. I saw a large Bro' on a '56 pan, wearing black leathers,a cap and boots(cool biker man). He hauled up the bars on that bike full of sacks, the pan hit the roof like it was running on tracks. I couldn't help gawking,this dude had some class, but i had to go in-i was frezzing my :censored: . Down through the stovepipe he fell with a crash, and out of the stove he came with some stach. With a smile and a glee,he passed out some loot' a jacket for her and some parts for my scoot. He patted her fanny and shook my right hand, spun on his heel and up the stovepipe he ran. From the top of the roof there came a great thunder, as that massive V-Twin rumbbled like thunder. With his beard in the wind,he road off in the night, Shouting,Have a cool yule and to all a good ride.