Pretty quiet on the net. Hope you are all enjoying the Christmas season.
We all have a lot to be thankful for here at FACM/OBA central and want to thank all of you who have helped us in many, many ways.
So here is a little Bronco Night Before Christmas for you all to enjoy.
The Bronco Night Before Christmas
(With apologizes to Clement Clarke Moore)
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all the museum
Not a creature was stirring, not even NAIL 57;
The stockings were hung by the mockup with care,
In hopes that Dr. Melvin soon would be there;
The members were nestled all snug in theirs beds,
While visions of Cubi danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long fighter nap,
When out on the ramp there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my rack to see what was the matter,
Away to hatch I flew like a flash,
Tore open the door and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the taxiway glow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects you know,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature Bronco and eight tiny volunteer.
With a little old driver, so lively and swell,
I knew in a moment it must be Dr. Mel.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Boomer! Now, Bear! Now, Seaworthy and RUSTIC!
On, Covey! On NAIL! On, Hostage and Rash!
To the top of the ramp! To the top of the wall!
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 hangar-top the courses they flew,
With the Bronco full of parts, and Dr. Melvin too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the hangar
The banging and sanding of each little member.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the A/C vent Dr. Melvin came with a bound.
He was dressed all in green, from his head to his toe,
And his clothes were all tarnished with oil and joe;
A bundle of parts 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 of his chin was a three day's grow;
The stump of a stogie he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a narrow face and a little beer belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was slender and lean, a right jolly old Marine,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of the scene;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the voids; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up through the overhead he rose;
He sprang to his Bronco, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But you heard him exclaim, ere he flew out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-flight."