2015 – An F1 Fan Christmas Poem

T’was The Night Before Christmas, When All Through Pit Lane
There Were No Milk And Cookies, Just Bottles Of Champagne

The Stockings Were Hung, By The Podium With Care
Hoping New Power Units, Soon Would Be There

Bernie Was Sleeping, Safe And Sound In His Bed
As 52 Race Calendar, Bounced Around In His Head

Jean Todt In His Onesie, Was Checking His List
As He Made Plans To Rule With A Soft Iron Fist?

When From The Paddock, Arose Something Quite Smelly
Sebastian Vettel Did Donuts, With Tyres From Pirelli

Away To The Pits, We Flew Like A Flash
We Heard Something Resembling, A Very Loud Crash

With The Light Of The Moon, It All Became Clear
Kimi Found Gelato, Then Dropped All His Beer

Charlie Whiting Appeared, At Race Control
He Had Just Arrived, From The Frosty North Pole

All Dressed In Red, White Hair And No Beard
With Shiny Black Boots Which Ron Dennis Revered

His Eyes Were A Twinkle, With A Smile On His Face
He Began Yelling And Screaming, For All To Come Race

All Drivers And Teams, Rushed Quickly And Came
As The Stern Race Director, Called Them By Name…

Now Vettel Now Lewis, Now Button And Nico
On Kimi On Daniel, On Bottas And Nando

To The Front Of The Grid, And Standing By
Chained Up Like Reindeer, And Prepared To Fly

They Took Over For Santa, Who Had Become Ill
He’d Been Forced On Stress Leave, After That Race In Brazil

Bernd Modified His Silver Arrow Pace Car
With A Red Light In Front, Which Seemed Somewhat Bizarre

Alan And Doc, Followed All From Behind.
In The Medical Car, With Heated Seats Reclined

Charlie Was Strapped, To The Top Of Their Merc
With A Bag Full Of Goodies, And A Huge Silly Smirk

In The Blink Of An Eye, With Tyres Still Smoking
They Dashed Off The Line, And Left Charlie Choking

DRS Was Enabled, And ERS Was Engaged
But No Contracts Were Signed, Which Left Bernie Enraged

They Landed On Rooftops, In Perfect Formation
Like A Storybook Tale, With Murray Walker Narration

The Chimney Was Tight, Charlie Just Didn’t Fit
So He Delegated Duties, To Our Friend Aussie Grit

From City To City, And Home To Home
From Melbourne To London And Shanghai To Rome

The Fuel Cells Were Freezing, As They Sputtered And Shivered
But They Were Jolly And Quick, As All Gifts Were Delivered

Back To Pit Lane, For Festive Celebrations
As The F1 Crew, Beat St. Nick’s Expectations

Not A Word Was Spoken, As They Got The Job Done

Christmas Was Saved, Thanks To Formula One

From @TheF1Poet, I Say With Delight
Happy Christmas To All, And To All A Good Night