Sometimes, around Christmas, I recall a Slan Shack I lived in in the mid 80’s called Finagle’s Freehold, where, around this time of the year, we would bring the motorcycle in the living room, decorate it with tinsel and lights, and sing carols to it. I’ve posted these before, so if this is old news to you, just skip it. The rest of you, enjoy.
Jingle bike, jingle bike, sliding to a spill
Oh what fun it is to ride on a Triumph Bonneville,
Jingle bike, jingle bike, sliding to a spill.
Oh what fun it is to ride on a Triumph Bonneville!
.. Through the house we go, laughing at our ease
.. Bouncing down the stairs, with 750 CCs.
.. Lights on signals blink, making Christmas zoom
.. Oh what fun is wiping out, in the living room!
Jingle bike…
Oh Christmas bike, oh, Christmas bike, you’re leaking so much oil.
Oh Christmas bike, oh Christmas bike, my hardwood floors are spoiled.
From gleaming pipes, to handle bars
You’re here cuz there’s no room for cars.
Oh Christmas bike, oh, Christmas bike, you’re leaking so much oil.
Silent bike, holy bike, kickstand holding it upright.
Round yon Triumph with no room to ride.
House filling up with carbon monoxide.
Sleep in heavenly fu-umes, Sleep in heavenly fumes.
Turn off the TV and computer, fa la la la la, la la la la!
See our happy Christmas scooter, fa la la la la, la la la la!
Lights and candles, green and red gear, fa la la la la, la la la la!
Don’t forget protective headgear, fa la la la la, la la la la!
Ah, Finagle’s. I remember it like it wasn’t yesterday. Because, you know: it wasn’t.
No. It was Whenever.
Snerk! I like it.
Interesting. Not frequent enough here to have caught it the last time, so all shiny new this time. Except, memory tells a tale of a certain celebration in a certain dining establishment with a bike just so decorated, though I do not recall the carols. Makes me want to reread the work in which that scene takes place, now that I have a very different and, dare I say, more intimate? way of understanding it.