I always leave this to the last minute, like my Christmas shopping that I am just off to do.
A Very Merry Christmas to you all. This forum is a real part of my life, I have learnt more here in the past few years than I did in playing Ricks for over 30. And made new friends. Priceless.
Merry Christmas to all!
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tony_carey
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captsandwich
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'Twas The Night Before Rickmas 2006
'Twas the night before Rickmas, when all through the factory,
Not a spray booth was stirring, well ... not exactly.
The guitars were all hung drying with care,
In the hopes Eric's "finish" soon would be there.[/size]
Stan, Lefty and J Dog nestled snug in their beds,
While visions of Dark Cherry Metallic danced in their heads.
Melibee in her kerchief, and Pappa with his .047 cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.[/size]
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed, was that Alisha, Sheila, maybe a bantar?
I imagined a scimitar, a cat's eye, a slash,
Maybe an f-hole, double-binding, do I have the cash?[/size]
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a UPS truck idling, not eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew right away, that it must be St. Rick.[/size]
More rapid than eagles his limited editions they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now Townshend, now McGuinn, now Hoffs, now Lennon,
On Kay, on Squire, on Petty, and Wilson".[/size]
To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,
Dash away Ben, dash away Cindalee, thank you John Hall.
So up to the house top with Rickenbackers flew,
The sleigh full of basses, Lemmy, Monarch, even St. Nicholas too.[/size]
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The clattering noise of Wilczynski ... he brought a spray booth?
His helper was bundled in polish cloths and all,
'Twas Howard all tarnished with Scratch X and Zymol.[/size]
I drew in my head and was turning around,
When down the chimney he came with a checkered-bound
Shadow bass he had slung on his back,
I felt the Rath of a five stringer had just opened his pack.[/size]
Bishop's eyes, twinkled Turquoise,
JWilli's dimples, blushed Burgundy.
Medway's cheeks were like Autumn Fireglo,
Dr. Who's nose like a Ruby.
St. Nick's droll little mouth was drawn up like a Sea Green bow,
The beard on his chin resembled Kenny's Lightshow.[/size]
The stump of a little, old pipe held tight in Dane's teeth,
The smoke went around his head like a Santa Ana wreath.
He was jolly and plump, a right jolly old RIC elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, with helpers of plenty.[/size]
They had sparkling faces, one with a banjoline belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
They had all signed a case that held strings by the basketful,
Suppose they'll guess this verse is autobiographical?[/size]
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Put on the strings, and turned the truss rod with a jerk.
And laying his intonating wrench aside of his nose,
Gave a nod, and with Jared's backhoe up the jetglo chimney he rose.[/size]
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
Darren first Trotted, then flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim as he jangled out of sight,
"Merry Rickmas to all, may your fireglo this Carey night."[/size]
'Twas the night before Rickmas, when all through the factory,
Not a spray booth was stirring, well ... not exactly.
The guitars were all hung drying with care,
In the hopes Eric's "finish" soon would be there.[/size]
Stan, Lefty and J Dog nestled snug in their beds,
While visions of Dark Cherry Metallic danced in their heads.
Melibee in her kerchief, and Pappa with his .047 cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.[/size]
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed, was that Alisha, Sheila, maybe a bantar?
I imagined a scimitar, a cat's eye, a slash,
Maybe an f-hole, double-binding, do I have the cash?[/size]
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a UPS truck idling, not eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew right away, that it must be St. Rick.[/size]
More rapid than eagles his limited editions they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now Townshend, now McGuinn, now Hoffs, now Lennon,
On Kay, on Squire, on Petty, and Wilson".[/size]
To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,
Dash away Ben, dash away Cindalee, thank you John Hall.
So up to the house top with Rickenbackers flew,
The sleigh full of basses, Lemmy, Monarch, even St. Nicholas too.[/size]
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The clattering noise of Wilczynski ... he brought a spray booth?
His helper was bundled in polish cloths and all,
'Twas Howard all tarnished with Scratch X and Zymol.[/size]
I drew in my head and was turning around,
When down the chimney he came with a checkered-bound
Shadow bass he had slung on his back,
I felt the Rath of a five stringer had just opened his pack.[/size]
Bishop's eyes, twinkled Turquoise,
JWilli's dimples, blushed Burgundy.
Medway's cheeks were like Autumn Fireglo,
Dr. Who's nose like a Ruby.
St. Nick's droll little mouth was drawn up like a Sea Green bow,
The beard on his chin resembled Kenny's Lightshow.[/size]
The stump of a little, old pipe held tight in Dane's teeth,
The smoke went around his head like a Santa Ana wreath.
He was jolly and plump, a right jolly old RIC elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, with helpers of plenty.[/size]
They had sparkling faces, one with a banjoline belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
They had all signed a case that held strings by the basketful,
Suppose they'll guess this verse is autobiographical?[/size]
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Put on the strings, and turned the truss rod with a jerk.
And laying his intonating wrench aside of his nose,
Gave a nod, and with Jared's backhoe up the jetglo chimney he rose.[/size]
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
Darren first Trotted, then flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim as he jangled out of sight,
"Merry Rickmas to all, may your fireglo this Carey night."[/size]
Life, as with music, often requires one to let go of the melody and listen to the rhythm
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Incredible Peter. Simply incredible. The Medway family really enjoyed your post.
Merry Christmas all.
Merry Christmas all.
“We can't solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them.” - Albert Einstein
"You do not really understand something unless you can explain it to your grandmother" - Albert Einstein
"You do not really understand something unless you can explain it to your grandmother" - Albert Einstein
Like me! Here (like it or not) is the text of the greeting I sent to McMurdo Station last year on the eve of the seventeenth annual 'Icestock'...
(There are a few arcane Antarctic cultural references in there, but I'm hoping the context will make them understandable...)
Twas the night before Icestock, and all through the town
All the bands were rehearsing, refining their sound.
The Korean guitars were all strung with great care,
And they all fixed the walls with 'the thousand yard stare'.
The bigwigs were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of crowd control danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘doo rag', and dad in his cap,
Had just settled in for a New Year's Eve nap.
When out in the cold there arose such a clatter,
They piled out the door to see what was the matter.
Some through the vestibule flew like a flash,
(Except for that one guy who plays just like 'Slash').
The sun bouncing off of the volcanic rock
Gave the whole town the look of a dirty old sock.
When, what by their snow-blinded eyes could be seen,
But a miniature sleigh, pulled by eight wolverines.
With a little old driver, so lively and hip,
They knew in a moment I'd made the long trip.
More rapid than weasels my wolverines came,
And I whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Dokken! now, Danzig! now, Prince and now Coldplay!
On, Cobain! On, Jagger! on Bowie and Green Day!
Watch out for the Jamesway! Don't hit the Outfall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As plywood before the wild Herbie wind sails,
When it meets with an obstacle, drills it with nails.
So down to the Juction the wolverines flew,
With the sleigh full of drumsticks, and extra strings too.
And then, with a splintering crash on the roof
I gave up all thoughts of remaining aloof.
With a big noisy 'Woof!' and a diesel fuel flash,
Down the old Preway smokestack I fell with a crash.
I was dressed like a clown, from my head to my foot,
My red parka was blackened by ashes and soot.
My windpants were knotted all up in a bunch,
And I looked like a 'fingie', 'bout to lose my boxed lunch.
My eyes-how they watered! My forehead, how wrinkled!
My buttcheeks were frozen, my snotcicles tinkled!
My face must have looked like some freezer-burned meat,
And my frostbitten nose was as white as a sheet.
The stump of a pipe I held tight in my teeth,
And the smoke it encircled my head like a wreath.
I'm sure that I looked like a strange little hobo,
And I shook like a trayful of hot Pork Adobo!
I was skinny and weird, a right old 'leaping gnome',
And they laughed when they saw me, all covered in foam!
A wink and a swig of my almost thawed beer,
Soon gave them to know they had nothing to fear.
I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
And tuned all the 'axes', then turned with a jerk.
And flashing two fingers to make a Peace sign,
And giving a nod, up the chimney I climbed!
I sprang to my sleigh, gave my team a Bronx cheer,
And away we all flew like a shook-up warm beer.
But they heard me exclaim, as I fired up my rig,
"Happy Icestock to all, and to all a good gig!"
...and I hope number eighteen will be another success...Happy Kwaanza, everyone!
(The Ghost Of Icestock Past...)
(There are a few arcane Antarctic cultural references in there, but I'm hoping the context will make them understandable...)
Twas the night before Icestock, and all through the town
All the bands were rehearsing, refining their sound.
The Korean guitars were all strung with great care,
And they all fixed the walls with 'the thousand yard stare'.
The bigwigs were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of crowd control danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘doo rag', and dad in his cap,
Had just settled in for a New Year's Eve nap.
When out in the cold there arose such a clatter,
They piled out the door to see what was the matter.
Some through the vestibule flew like a flash,
(Except for that one guy who plays just like 'Slash').
The sun bouncing off of the volcanic rock
Gave the whole town the look of a dirty old sock.
When, what by their snow-blinded eyes could be seen,
But a miniature sleigh, pulled by eight wolverines.
With a little old driver, so lively and hip,
They knew in a moment I'd made the long trip.
More rapid than weasels my wolverines came,
And I whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Dokken! now, Danzig! now, Prince and now Coldplay!
On, Cobain! On, Jagger! on Bowie and Green Day!
Watch out for the Jamesway! Don't hit the Outfall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As plywood before the wild Herbie wind sails,
When it meets with an obstacle, drills it with nails.
So down to the Juction the wolverines flew,
With the sleigh full of drumsticks, and extra strings too.
And then, with a splintering crash on the roof
I gave up all thoughts of remaining aloof.
With a big noisy 'Woof!' and a diesel fuel flash,
Down the old Preway smokestack I fell with a crash.
I was dressed like a clown, from my head to my foot,
My red parka was blackened by ashes and soot.
My windpants were knotted all up in a bunch,
And I looked like a 'fingie', 'bout to lose my boxed lunch.
My eyes-how they watered! My forehead, how wrinkled!
My buttcheeks were frozen, my snotcicles tinkled!
My face must have looked like some freezer-burned meat,
And my frostbitten nose was as white as a sheet.
The stump of a pipe I held tight in my teeth,
And the smoke it encircled my head like a wreath.
I'm sure that I looked like a strange little hobo,
And I shook like a trayful of hot Pork Adobo!
I was skinny and weird, a right old 'leaping gnome',
And they laughed when they saw me, all covered in foam!
A wink and a swig of my almost thawed beer,
Soon gave them to know they had nothing to fear.
I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
And tuned all the 'axes', then turned with a jerk.
And flashing two fingers to make a Peace sign,
And giving a nod, up the chimney I climbed!
I sprang to my sleigh, gave my team a Bronx cheer,
And away we all flew like a shook-up warm beer.
But they heard me exclaim, as I fired up my rig,
"Happy Icestock to all, and to all a good gig!"
...and I hope number eighteen will be another success...Happy Kwaanza, everyone!
(The Ghost Of Icestock Past...)
I didn't get where I am today by being on time...
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melibreits
- Senior Member
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beatlefreak
- Senior Member
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