Heres a little verse I borrowed.
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the barn;
Not a tractor was stirring, not even the Cub;
The hay was all put up, the loft was full;
And no one was happier, than the old bull;
The silo is all full, running over with corn;
When the last kernel went in, the little Cub blew his horn;
The snow chains were all hung, on the hand hewn beams;
They all hoped St Nick, would fulfill their wildest dreams;
The tractors were snuggled in, ready for a cold winter night;
The little Cub next to the A, and the WD 9, in all his might;
While visions of endless miles, of corn and soybeans filled their heads;
No one but the old Regulator, could remember such spreads;
And then all of a sudden, out in the barnyard there arose such a clatter;
I jumped from my bed, just knowing it was the Cub, with his darned chatter;
But no, to my sleepy eyes what did I behold!
Its St Nick riding a Super M, the poor old fellow, he sure looks cold;
He's pulling an old IH wagon full of toys, I see plows and disc and blades;
A three point hitch, and an electronic ignition, (but I don't see a milkmaid);
He looked at me and gave me a wink, and I knew just what it meant;
Some Farmalls would be made happy tonight, he was in his element;
He grabbed a sack full of parts, coils, mags, starters and lights, all were NOS;
A three point hitch, a torque diverter, two new batteries, what a Xmas!
He ran through the barn, hanging all the toys on the snow chains;
He was having so much fun, and my tractors will be the happiest on the plains;
The bag was empty, I saw him glance to the Farmalls before he ran;
He grabbed the hand crank, and spun the old M, this indeed is a special man;
Away to the seat he leaped, and put her into gear, and down the dirt road he flew;
I wished he didn't have so many farms to do, would have loved to give him a brew;
I heard him call out, as he drove out of sight;
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all Farmalls, a good night!"