Twas the Night before Christmas, When all through the Shop.Not a mechanic was working not even the shop mouse; The PM’s were hung on the board with care, In the hopes that Joe Diesel would soon be there;
The parts mangers were nestled all snugger in their tool cribs, while visions of Injectors danced in their heads; And Bill in his bibs, and I in my mask, had just welded down some metal to fix a bad gap.
When out on the parking lot there arose such a clatter, I sprang from under my tractor to see what’s the matter.Away to the waiting room window I flew in a flash, tore open the screen door and threw on my favorite parts cap.
The moon on the driveway oil splattered on snow, gave luster to mid-day projects waiting below, When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a sweat tandem axel day cab suck in 8th gear.
With a little old driver, so lively and slick, I knew in a moment Joe Diesel was here.More Rapid than a turbo his course they came, and he whistled, and should, and called them by name;
“Now, Chalmers! Now, Lester! Now, Rooster! And Vincent!On, Carl! On Bubba! On, Daniel and Winston! To the top of the Parking lot, to the top of the Car hauler! Now Hurry Up! Pick up! Come on Y’all he shouted louder!!!!!
As fast as oil dry leaves that spot in a hurry, when they meet with an obstacle, they mount to the tuck and have it running in a flurry.So, they flew in the truck, with stacks open wide, and Joe Diesel too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the road.The burning of tires going down the road.As I drew in my hand, and was turning around, Down the road Joe Diesel came with a bound.
He was dressed all in Carhartt, from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with oil and grease; A bundle of parts he had flung on his back.And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes how they twinkled! His dimples how chapped, His cheeks were like roses, nose stained with soot, His droll little mouth was drawn like Author Fonzarelli.And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;The bulge of his chew held tight in his cheek,And the smoke of his breath circled his head like a wreath;He had a broad face and a little of a belly,That shook like a HEMI, when he laughed from his gut.
He was Big Boned and Stout, a right jolly old fellow, And Laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; A wink of his eye and grunt as he turned, soon gave me to know I had no work to be done;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his truck, and filled his mouth with jerky; then turned with a smirk, and giving a nod, Up the road he went;
He sprang into gear and gave his crew a whistle, away they flew like a NASCAR’s at Bristol. But I heard him yell as he drove of that night, Merry Christmas to all and ForDiesels is out of sight!!!!!!!!!!