“Twas the Night Before Christmas” Ferrari style

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the garage, not an engine was revving, not even a mirage.

The stockings were hung by the toolbox with care, in hopes that new Ferraris soon would be there.

The owners were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of Enzos raced through their heads.

And I in my jersey, with a Ferrari cap tight, had just settled in for a car-filled night.

When out on the driveway, there arose such a roar, I sprang from my bed and dashed to the door.

Away to the window, I flew in a flash, tore open the curtains, my heart in a dash.

The moon on the curves of the driveway so wide, lit up the red beast that had stopped outside.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear, rut a Rosso Corsa sleigh and eight V12s to steer!

With a driver so dashing, lively, and quick, I knew in a moment, it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than Scuderia, his engines they came, and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

“Now Testarossa! Now Dino! Now 250 GT! On California! On Daytona! On F8 Tributo so fleet!

To the top of the driveway! To the garage wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

As leaves that before the 812 Superfast fly, when they meet with an obstacle, soar to the sky.

So up to the garage, the prancing steeds flew, with the sleigh full of gifts, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a revving, I heard on the roof, the thunder of pistons, 296 Hybrid proof.

As I drew in my head and was turning around, down the lift St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed in red leather, from his head to his foot, and his boots were all tarnished with engine oil and soot.

A bundle of car parts he had flung on his back, and he looked like a driver, just opening his pack.

His eyes—how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry! His cheeks were like brake lights, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up in a smirk, and the beard on his chin was as fine as Ferrari work.

The keys to a Monza he held tight in his hand, a dream for all lovers of Ferrari land.

He had a broad face and a six-speed paddle, that shifted with grace in his V12 battle.

He spoke not a word but went straight to his task, and filled all the stockings with gear made to last.

Then laying his finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod, up the lift he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a yell, and away they all flew like a GT on a carousel.

But I heard him exclaim as he roared out of sight, “Buon Natale to all, and to all a fast night!”

 

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Happy Holidays to all from the team here at the Ferrari Market Letter.
Jim Weed, Cathy Roush and Mitch DeFrancis
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!