| Subject: | [RESOGUIT-L] It's officially Xmas Eve! (From The Archives) | | Date: | Monday, December 24, 2007 17:51:04 (-0500) | | From: | Poobah <poobah @........com>
|
"A Conehead's Xmas"
-anon-
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the home
Not a reso was stirring, not even a cone;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Mike soon would be there;
The pickers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Scheerhorns danced in their heads;
And mamma in a nightie, and I in my skivvies,
Had just settled in for activies mischievous,
When out on the deck there arose such a noise,
I said "sorry dear" and lost all my poise.
Away to the window I missed my first step,
Tripped over the case where the Clinesmith was kept.
The moon on the shed where the P.A. was kept
Gave light to the lawn where my tired eyes met
When, what to my watery eyes should appear,
But a Formula 1 car, with logo by Beard
A McLaren and driver, with swiftness in flight,
I knew in a moment it be St. Mike.
The car it was cranky, and in muttering profane
And he banged, and kicked, and called it by name;
"Now, &^&%! now, &^&%! now, &*^% and &^&%!
On, *&$%! on &^&%! on, *&*% and &^&%!
Turn over, turn over, I heard him pray
The engine caught, he was off and away
And then, in a twinkling, gone in a poof
The braking and skidding up on the roof.
As I shook, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Mike came with a bound.
He was dressed all in style, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all pressed with creases, nice boots
A bundle of cases he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a luthier just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his face full of wit!
His hands full of grace, his hair nicely combed!
With style of only a man in the know
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
Taking time out to pratice (and practice...)
Rolls forward, rolls backward, Pickaway then Caravan
Muttering theory, playing scales, again and again
On the six, then the eight, then on steel with pedals
He was happy and tired, a right jolly old self,
And I cried when I heard him, in spite of myself;
A caring eye and look gave me hope.
Soon let me know I was no dope;
He spoke not me, I felt like a jerk,
And filled all the stockings; talked in his work,
hmm capo...ahh strings..yeah Resocasters CD
This one's good...a guitar by ME
He sprang to his car, to the throttle a nudge,
exhaust roars to life, tires leave rubber.
But I heard him exclaim, when he peeled out of sight,
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"
--
Howard Parker
poobah@resoguit.com
ListOwner Resoguit-L
www.resoguit.com
|
It's officially Xm
Reply to this message