Last year's Christmas card...
'Twas the night before Christmas,
when all through the stands.
Not a creature was stirring,
not even the fans.
The stockings where hung,
on the pit cart with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas,
soon would be there,
The pit crews were nestled,
all snug in the rigs.
While visions of victories
danced in their heads.
When out on the track,
there arose such a thunder,
I sprang from the rig
to see what was out yonder.
When what to my wondering eyes
should appear,
but a miniature track,
with eight fast cars
shifting gears.
The drivers were,
so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment the track
must be dry slick.
More rapid than eagles,
the late models came.
I whistled and shouted,
and called them by name;
"Go Feger! Now Sheppard!
Now, Babb and Van Wormer!
On, Frankie! On, Brandon!
On, Korte and of course
Billy Moyer!
To the top of the track!
Near the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!"
The crowd sprang to stand,
as the cars neared the checkers.
And away they all flew,
like comets at night.
But I heard the winner exclaim,
as he drove out of sight.
"Merry Christmas to all,
and to all a Good Night!"
