An Aviation Christmas Poem

From Our House to Yours

A Christmas Aviation Poem

We've done the shipping and swept the floor. Now it's time to relax with family and friends and celebrate the miracle of Christmas. In what has become a holiday tradition we have a Christmas eve reading of "Twas the Flight Before Christmas" and many of our customers have taken up the tradition.

With thanks and good cheer have a wonderful holiday season and may you travel safely over the Christmas Holiday.

Happy Holidays from Steve and the crew at www.DiecastAirplane.com

'Twas the Flight Before Christmas
Steven Howland

Twas the flight before Christmas, when all through the the sky
Family and relatives still had to fly.
The bags were all stowed by handlers with care
In hopes that the runway soon would be there.
The passengers were nestled all snug in their seats
And stewards were peddling all kinds of treats.
The copilot had just taken control
And flight 1224 was now on a roll.

When out on the wing there arose such a clatter
I unbuckled my seat belt to see what was the matter
Away to the exit row I flew like a flash
Careful, lest passengers see me dash.
The moon on the glistening wing at midnight
is always to me the most beautiful sight,
But what sights my tired eyes did combine
But a miniature Boeing with eight tiny turbine.
With a little old pilot, so lively and quick
I knew in a moment in must be St. Nick.

More rapids then Concordes his turbines did speed
and he shouted commands to his high flying steed.
"Down flaps, down gear, check fuel and ignition.
(How fondly we remember the days of the piston)
to the top of the tail, to the top of the wing.
Now pull back, and flare, and land this old thing."
As light planes before a thunderstorm fly
He flashed past the window in a wink of an eye
And onto the wings the small craft then flew
With a plane full of toys and St. Nicholas, too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard the sound
of spinning and whining when his engines shut down.
As I drew back in wonder and crouched on the floor
He threw open the emergency exit door
There was no rush of tumbling air
and passengers slept on with nary a care.

St Nick wore red coveralls with tool pockets and bells
and the odor of jet fuel we all love so well.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back
and he looked like a mechanic just opening his pack
His nose - like a cherry. His eyes were so bright!
The tag on his pocket said “Remove Before Flight.”
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow.
His pipe was unlit - no smoking, you know.
He had lost some weight, too, for keeping his medical
Though to see a slim Santa seems quite heretical,

But he still shook when he laughed and seemed without care
at walking on wings in the wide open air.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
of filling the seat pockets; then turned with a jerk
And laying a finger aside of his nose
And giving a nod out the exit he rose
He sprang to his Boeing and to the engines yelled "Clear!"
And away they old flew like the running of deer.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he flew out of sight.
"Merry Christmas to all and to all a good flight."

An Aviation Christmas Poem

From Our House to Yours

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