Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the barn; Not a tractor was stirring, not even the Cub; The hay was all put up, the loft was full; And no one was happier, than the old bull; The silo is all full, running over with corn; When the last kernel went in, the little Cub blew his horn; The snow chains were all hung, on the hand hewn beams; They all hoped St Nick, would fulfill their wildest dreams; The tractors were snuggled in, ready for a cold winter night; The little Cub next to the A, and the WD 9, in all his might; While visions of endless miles, of corn and soybeans filled their heads; No one but the old Regulator, could remember such spreads; And then all of a sudden, out in the barnyard there arose such a clatter; I jumped from my bed, just knowing it was the Cub, with his darned chatter; But no, to my sleepy eyes what did I behold! Its St Nick riding a Super M, the poor old fellow, he sure looks cold; He's pulling an old IH wagon full of toys, I see plows and disc and blades; A three point hitch, and an electronic ignition, (but I don't see a milkmaid); He looked at me and gave me a wink, and I knew just what it meant; Some Farmalls would be made happy tonight, he was in his element; He grabbed a sack full of parts, coils, mags, starters and lights, all were NOS; A three point hitch, a torque diverter, two new batteries, what a Xmas! He ran through the barn, hanging all the toys on the snow chains; He was having so much fun, and my tractors will be the happiest on the plains; The bag was empty, I saw him glance to the Farmalls before he ran; He grabbed the hand crank, and spun the old M, this indeed is a special man; Away to the seat he leaped, and put her into gear, and down the dirt road he flew; I wished he didn't have so many farms to do, would have loved to give him a brew; I heard him call out, as he drove out of sight; "Merry Christmas to all, and to all Farmalls, a good night!"
Please keep our troops on foreign soil in your thoughts and prayers..... Clipper
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