Twas the night before Christmas, And all through the trails,
Every Toyota was stranded, Their progress like snails.
They had no shovels, No rope and no winch,
No CB, no cell-phone, To get out of their pinch.
When out from a mud pit, There arose such a clatter;
All the ''wheelers came running To see what was the matter.
I saw some poor Toyota All covered in crud;
He had blown his motor trying to get free of the mud.
As he stood there I noticed His glowing red face,
And I knew in an instant He wanted out of this place.
I glanced at his roof, It was all I could see;
He pleaded for help from my winch and from me.
So I sprang to the front Of my trusty old toy,
Spooled out the winch cable, Said "Hook ''er up, boy!"
He went for a swim In the watery hell, and
I laughed as he turned brown, And started to smell.
He hooked up the cable to his buried front hook,
I put a coat on the line Like it says in the book.
I winched him out quickly, A very fast session;
And I charged him a C-note, To teach him a lesson.
I then drove my Hummer through the same mud and same muck;
No problem for me, ''Cause I had a REAL truck!
I wound down my window as I drove out of sight,
And smugly yelled, "Next time; Stay home Christmas night!"
