Hiya I'm sorry I haven't published much I haven't been well at all but I hope you all appreciate this Oscar night before Christmas poem I made on my side blog 🧡
Night before Christmas - F1 edition🏎️
Hello I haven't written as many stories as I want to because of some health issues but I wish you all a merry Christmas ❤️ and I'll work on them still I promise that, until then here's a little poem.
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the paddock,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a stock.
The helmets were hung by the garage with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
Oscar Piastri nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of podiums danced in his head.
With trophies and triumphs, a season well-spent,
He dreamt of success, a true champion's intent.
When out on the track, there arose such a clatter,
Oscar sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the pit lane, he flew like a flash,
Tore open the garage, ready to dash.
The moon on the crest of the virtual waves,
Gave a luster of silver to the cars on the pave.
When, what to his wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
Oscar knew in a moment, it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles, his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.
"Now, Lando! Now, Lewis! Now, Max and Seb!
On, Charles! On, Daniel! On, Fernando and Esteban!
To the top of the podium, to the victory lane!
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the housetop, the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of gifts, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, Oscar heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As he drew in his head, and was turning around,
Down the pit lane, St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in red, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.
Oscar couldn't believe his eyes, what a sight!
St. Nick was a racing fan, that much was right.
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
Filling the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the pit lane he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But Oscar heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
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