'Twas the tag before Christmas, when all through the Manawatu
Not a rider was stirring, not even an Owl;
The bikes were parked in the shed with care,
In hopes of better weather and nice still air;
The bikers were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of curvy roads did dance in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains on our next lap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Old TagAway to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The blur of a Yamaha was not just all show,
The rider remembering to keep it to 100 or below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature car, the driver with no idea, With a little old driver so dopey and thick,
I knew in a moment he must be a dick.

Slower than a Harley but nevertheless he came,
And wandered all across the highway, the rider giving him a new name:
@#$% $#@%@ @#$% !$%@#% @$$!
@#$% $#@%@ @#$% !$%@#% @$$!

A bit more throttle meant rider took him on the hill
Then back off again lest he gets handed a bill
As leaves that behind the wild Tenere fly,
When an obstacle is seen, care is taken as it goes by;
So on to the tag the rider on bike flew
With a camera on board for the important photo too?
And then, in a twinkling, the picture was taken
And the search for the new tag undertaken.

As the rider mounted his horse, and was turning around,
Ac...