Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The TV was on and the console was hot
And all eyes were glued to one speeding spot.

I'd mastered my races and the Burning Route too
Having nailed the Stunt Run, down East Crawford I flew.
With Billboards smashed and Super Jumps jumped
I wanted more of a challenge so the D-pad I pumped.

Without the game even pausing I was suddenly online
With a racer called Santa - could this be a sign?
An old voice through my headset chuckled "Fancy a go?
We'll race to the Country Club, ho ho ho ho!"

And then he sped away with a deep roaring sound
And I hit the throttle, slowly gaining ground.
As we reached Newton Drive I got in a slam
And sped on ahead of that jolly old man.

I thought to myself as his side shunt just missed
That next year I'm sure to be on the "bad" list.
But I shouldn't be so cocky - my grin changed to a frown
When a quick sharp move sideways meant I was taken down.

With a swift e-brake turn his tyres gave a whistle
And past me he flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Atomika