Hilarious Christmas Poems, Just For Bikers

by Safia Miletus · Published December 24, 2016 · Updated March 21, 2017

To everyone who celebrates Christmas, or at least appreciates funny poems! Here are a couple of poems that will be sure to get you to release a giggle or two.

Poem #1 (My favourite!)

Twas the Night Before Christmas (Biker Version)

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the Garage,
Not a creature was stirring – not even the Dodge.
Spare tires were hung by the tool box with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas would fill them with air.

I had been up near half the night,
Washing, waxing, and tuning up the bike.
My wife in her sweat pants, and me in ‘Doo rag,
Had just finished packing the giant T-Bag.

A trip we were planning, in the morning come dawn,
A quick breakfast and coffee, and then we’d be gone.
To visit some friends, some far and some near,
To share the joy of Christmas and perhaps down a beer.

When out in the driveway, there came such a noise,
At first I thought “it must be my boys”.
But I could not mistake that Harley Thunder,
“What else could it be? “Some HOG folks” I wondered?

I stumbled out of the garage, into the night,
And was immediately blinded by all the lights.
“Turn off those lights!” I yelled into the dark,
“Shut down those motors and find someplace to park.”

When my vision returned, and I squinted my eyes,
I could just make out a shadow, about three times my size!
“Come out of the shadows,” I implored,
“Come have a beer,” and we went through the door.

He was a huge man, with arms like Popeye
Covered with tattoos, and a gleem in his eye.
He was covered in leather, but it was Red and not Black!
And I couldn’t help but notice the large bag on his back.

Red chaps and red boots, red leather coat too,
Red gloves and red scarf, and even his ‘doo!
His beard was heavy and thick; as were his lashes,
And his outfit was topped off with a vest full of patches.

His face was ruddy, sun-caked and baked,
And I knew in an instant; This guy’s no fake!
I’ve known many tough men, but this man was bolder,
His mileage patch stretched from shoulder to shoulder!

He burped and he grunted, lifted his left leg and farted,
And right after that, the rope on his bag parted.
I was somewhat amazed and awed at the sight,
Of packages flying from the bag through the night.

Tools flew to the tool box,
A sound system appeared,
A new windshield for the Harley,
As he shouted “MORE BEER”!

When he was finished, he Shouted “Good Cheer”!
And as he turned to leave, he downed one more beer.
He went out to the drive and into the night,
As I followed him out, I turned on the porch light.

His steeds, they were metal, all shiny and bright,
And I stared at them with awe on that cold, fateful night.
He started his steeds, each one by one,
And I could tell in an instant, this was HIS kind of fun!

He reached the lead steed, and turned on the key,
In the dim light, I could faintly see.
He pulled out the choke; swung a leg over the saddle,
Jumped up in the air, and came down – HARD – on the pedal.

It sputtered and coughed, then died in the night.
I heard him mutter “Something’s not right!”
He tried again, hollering “Come on you putz!”
Then he let out a loud yell – He’d come down on his nuts!

He turned to me and with all he could muster,
Said “I have a problem, can you help me out buster?”
I stood a little taller, as I replied “Yes I can”!
And I could see very plainly, he was eyeing my “Pan”

We swapped them out quickly, he was soon on his way,
And as he rode off, I heard plain as day,
“On Avon, on Metzler, on Dunlop and Goodyear”,
“Next stop is The Sorry Gulch, to restock their beer”!

As the full moon rose and lit up the scene,
He did the most awesome wheelie I’d ever seen!
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all Good Cheer!”
“Why not?” I thought; “His belly’s full of my beer!”

I replaced the spark plug wire – I’d been smart as a fox!
I had removed it as he delivered the last box!
My wife looked at me with total disbelief,
I said “Don’t worry Honey – We now have a Chief!”

By Ron Carl (aka #edgewalker)

Poem #2 (…also my favourite!) via FiftiesWeb

Twas the Night Before Christmas (For Bikers)

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the pad,
There was nada happenin’, now thats pretty bad.
The woodstove was hung up in that stocking routine,
In hopes that the Fat Boy would soon make the scene.

With our stomachs packed with tacos and beer,
My girl and I crashed on the couch for some cheer.
When out in the yard there arose such a racket,
I ran for the door and pulled on my jacket.

I saw a large bro’ on a ’56 Pan
Wearin’ black leathers, a cap, and boots (cool biker, man).
He hauled up the bars on that bikeful of sacks,
And that Pan hit the roof like it was running on tracks.

I couldn’t help gawking, the old guy had class.
But I had to go in — I was freezing my ass.
Down through the stovepipe he fell with a crash,
And out of the stove he came dragging his stash.

With a smile and some glee he passed out the loot,
A new jacket for her and some parts for my scoot.
He patted her fanny and shook my right hand,
Spun on his heel and up the stovepipe he ran.

From up on the roof came a great deal of thunder,
As that massive V-twin ripped the silence asunder.
With beard in the wind, he roared off in the night,
Shouting, “Have a cool Yule, and to all a good ride!”

-Unknown