Twas the night before Cranksgiving, when all through the bank

Not a food item was in the place

And trust me there was plenty of space

The delivery boxes were lined up with care

in hopes the food stuff would soon be there

The cyclists were nestled in their beds with no leg hair

Their alarm clocks set to get up and ride in the early morning air

When out in the garage I heard such a clatter

I sprang up and put on my SPDs to see what was the matter

I hit the opener button to turn on the light

Hoping that the bright shine would not illuminate a fright

And what did before my Oakley covered eyes did appear

But a man in blue tights that did look quite queer

A red pair of Speedos, a cape, and jokes of dead pan

Before me was the mysterious Bicycle Repair Man

As he changed into a grey work suit, I could tell he was certainly a brute

An English accent did burst forth as he said with a snort

"The chain is a bit short - the ride can't go down

I'm here to fix it, and save you the frown"

He spun the bike to and fro, going to work - it was such a show

Tri Flow and a breaker held in each hand

He fixed that darn bike with great command.

Once done the bike was hung back from the rafter

Bicycle Repair Man let rip his laughter

"I'm done you see, the ride can now be

Get your butt out here, put on your tights, and find the money to feed the little tykes

The shelves need stocking and only you can help

Ride to Hy-Vee to find some raw smelt

Fill your bag with non perishable stuff

Your Girlfriend will be so impressed

I'm sure you'll be soon knee deep in muff.

With that he leapt onto his fendered three speed

Released the rod brakes and sipped from his water bottle of Heed

With his arm in the air as he road down the street

I can still hear him yell with amazing decibel feat

"Ride your bikes - fear not of sleet

I'm the Bicycle Repair Man and my repair time promises I keep

Happy Cranksgiving to all, and to all fast feet"

'

All in a days work for Bicycle Repairman.