Cars Yeah With Mark Greene

Twas the night before Christmas, and upon my garage bench,Not a tool was a spinning, not even a wrench.The cars were all parked in their stalls with great care,In hope that St Nicholas soon would be there. •••  This car guy was nestled all snug in my bed,While visions of sports cars raced through my head.And my wife in her overalls and I in my driver’s cap,Had just parked our booties for a long winter’s nap. •••  When out on the driveway there arose a valve clatter,I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.Away to the garage I flew like James Hunt,But I tripped on a floor jack and had quite a shunt. •••  The moon on the paint of my shiny car’s hood,Had the luster of fresh paint on cars that are good.When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,But a train of cool sports cars with a driver so dear. •••  He was a spirited old racer, so lively and quick,I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.More rapid than racers his cars they all came,And he honked, and blipped throttles, and called them by name! •••