Branch 8 Newsletter editor
‘T was the night before Christmas
When all through the house
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even my spouse.
The stockings were empty,
The chimney was bare.
We all knew St. Nicholas
Had already been there.
I searched through the gifts
Scattered here and there
Couldn’t find what I wanted,
Just sox and underwear.
I’d hoped for some parts;
A new carburetor,
A hood or a seat,
Even a generator.
Decals would be nice,
A fender just great.
A new magneto?
I guess it’s too late.
I’d asked for a muffler.
She’d misunderstood.
She gave me a scarf
And a sweatshirt with a hood.
I’d given up hope
As I sat by the tree.
Then my wife took my hand
As she smiled at me.
She looked through the window
And said, ‘Come with me!’
For out in the yard
Stood an old ‘GP’.
It was a wonderous sight
As it proudly stood there.
All the parts that I needed
On that old John Deere.
And I say to you now
As I drive out of sight,
‘Happy New Year to all
And to all Good Night.’
