His bright red suit sports fluffy white trim
Not quite obese but a far cry from slim
Calf high boots all shiny and black
Totes a world of toys in a magical sack
He rides a custom sleigh scoot
Flames on each side
Not a horse-powered relic
It’s a Reindeer Glide
‘Cause Santa’s a Biker
‘Big Daddy’ of cool
First page, chapter one
In the ‘Book of Old School’
Got a curvy ‘ol lady
Who supports the cause
On those North Pole nights
She supports ‘The Clause’
He hangs with a group called ‘Elves MC’
All bad to the bone, all three foot three
Fillin’ the orders, loadin’ the sleigh
Hittin’ the eggnog while the Big Guy’s away
There are those who would doubt
Say, Santa’s’ not real
But, for we who ride
He’s the genuine deal
‘Cause Santa’s a Biker
‘Big Daddy’ of cool
First page, chapter one
In the ‘Book of Old School’
Believe with your heart
Not with your head
See as the child
In a hospital bed
For thunder on the street
Is their rooftops click, click, click
As each and every Toy Run
Affirms faith in ‘Ol Saint Nick
Yes, Santa is a Biker
And should you not believe
Ask the child in the hospital bed
On any Christmas Eve
Ironhorse Writer
12/09/2003