Twas the night before Christmas and all through the hood,
Not a homie was stirring, not a Crip nor a Blood.
When, from just down the street, and as loud as you please
came a sound like a coffee can full of mad bees.
Had someone found new ways to torture stray cats?
Did a chainsaw fall into a rainwater vat?
They all threw up the sash to see what was the matter.
It was just some guy's motorbike making a clatter.
He didn't float off, like the down of a thistle -
He revved and he bolted, like a two-wheel missile.
And they heard him exclaim, 'ere he rode out of sight:
"Happy Christmas to all. Use your turn-signal light!"
Not a homie was stirring, not a Crip nor a Blood.
When, from just down the street, and as loud as you please
came a sound like a coffee can full of mad bees.
Had someone found new ways to torture stray cats?
Did a chainsaw fall into a rainwater vat?
They all threw up the sash to see what was the matter.
It was just some guy's motorbike making a clatter.
He didn't float off, like the down of a thistle -
He revved and he bolted, like a two-wheel missile.
And they heard him exclaim, 'ere he rode out of sight:
"Happy Christmas to all. Use your turn-signal light!"
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darn kids!
