This was sent to me by a friend and I thought lots of you on this forum would also get a kick out of it:
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through my pike,
Not a steamer was stirring, not even a Mike.
My yard tracks invitingly empty and bare,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The diesels were nestled all snug in their sheds,
While visions of DCC danced in their heads.
While I, in my blue-and-white engineer’s cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap.
When down in the train room, there rose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the basement I flew like an ace,
Tripped over the cat and fell flat on my face.
I stifled a curse meant for Chessie (the cat),
And I muttered to no one, “I meant to do that,”
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But an O Scale sleigh and eight 1/4" reindeer.
With an engineer driving, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than GG-1’s, onward they came,
And he blew a steam whistle and called them by name:
“On Weaver! On Overland, Babbitt and Walthers!
On Kadee, All-Nation, Atlas and others!
To the top of the mountains of Hydrocal plaster,
Now dash away, dash away, dash away faster!”
As dry leaves that behind a new Genesis fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So in through the window the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of trains, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, on my roundhouse, I saw on the roof
The prints in the dust of each O Scale hoof.
As I drew a deep breath, and was turning around,
From beneath the benchwork, St. Nick came with a bound.
He was dressed like an engineer from head to foot,
And his clothes had that fine smell of ashes and soot