‘Twere the night before Christmas, and all ‘cross the County,
Corrupt politicians were countin’ the bounty.
“Pete” Peterson had blank warrants prepared,
In case some criminal, that night, would be snared.
The Hwy 6 inmates were counted and fed,
In hopes that by morning 2 or 3 would be dead.
Abe Reyna and Swanton, drinking good whisky’
Knew the Twin Peaks trials would surely be risky.
When out in the streets there was heard such a sound,
As thousands of “Criminal Bikers” rode into town.
They ran through the courthouse locking the doors,
As the Bikers pulled up in front with a roar.
The bright, shining light of the December moon,
Glistened off of the Harleys as if it were noon.
Then, next a big Harley Trike appeared,
With Vance & Hines pipes that sounded out clear.
On top of the Scooter was Santa, you know,
Dressed in red leathers from his head to his toe.
He stretched and cracked his chubby old frame,
Then looked at the Courthouse and called out some names.
“Renya, and Swanton, I need to talk to you!
Where’s McNamara and Eubanks, I want them here, too.
Get Peterson up, he’s used to it by now.
Get Stroman and Chavez. I really don’t care how.”
They shook in their boots as they made the phone calls.
“Santa’s at the Courthouse! Get down here ya’ll!”
It didn’t take long to get them all there.
While some of the bikers cracked open a beer.
When Parnell, Chris, Brent, and “Pete”
Joined Reyna and the others, the Claus took a seat.
That big Harley trike became Santa’s throne,
While all of the “Good Ole Boys” shook to their bones.
They had an idea why Santa had called ‘em.
He got ‘em together just so’s he could scald ‘em.
And scald ‘em he did, as he shook his gloved fist.
“Did you boys really think you’d get away with all this?”
His eyes shot lightening, his voice like thunder,
As Santa proceeded to plow ‘em all under.
“Swanton, these ‘Criminal Bikers’ of yours,
Include preachers and veterans of countless tours.
They fought for the rights you so easily trampled,
With warrants from Peterson that looked like samples.
You left ‘em all blank, like Dis-Honest Abe asked,
To aid all your cops in their heinous task.
Did you really think that folks would believe,
That dumb bag of tricks you had up your sleeve?”
Parnell tried to sneak away from the rest,
“Come back, McNamara, did you cheat on your test?
Eubanks ex-girlfriend had pictures to show,
But Reyna wouldn’t file charges, you know.”
The Bikers prepared to leave for the night,
While Santa exclaimed, “You boys just ain’t right.
With a roar like thunder they all followed that trike,
With “Tompkins for Sheriff” on the back of each bike.
Merry Christmas from The Waco Extremist