Twas the night before Christmas and down on pit lane
No mechanics were stirring, parc ferme' again.
The race suits were hung in garages with care
Pre-season testing would soon fill the air.

Teams were preparing for the season to come
With designers and engineers doing their sums.
The drivers were nowhere near any cold track
They were snuggled in villas with beaches out back.

Then out of the Paddock Club what did appear
But a little old elf, with Beatle type hair.
He wore a wry grin which meant only one thing
His profits were up. He made more than a king.

There was talk of rebellion, another breakaway threat
Was it leveraging fear to make CVC fret?
"Let's start our own series" from an Italian's big gob
Bernie'd heard it before he'd be out of a job.

The papers were writing, the websites were full
Of talk of a new threat was it fact or just bull?
Bernie he smiled at what they thought was a mess,
The race shops were closed but they were still getting press!

He pondered his options but knew he'd still win
He held all the aces, they all had thin skin
So he jumped up on the pit wall without any fear
And shouted out loudly so all close could hear;

"On Vettel, on Webber, with Newey you won.
That kid he proved he could win under the gun.
Fernando and Massa you made quite a team
But the thought of equality's only a dream."

"On Button and Lewis, the UK cheered you on
But by Abu Dhabi your chances were gone.
On Nico, but Schumacher, what was your thought?
Your skills were not lacking you just lost the plot.

"Ahh Williams you ended with almost a chance
Both Nico and Rubens made that old Cosworth dance.
The other teams running that 6-year-old block
were nowhere near the rest of the flock.

"Petrov, Kubica you've brought in new fans
I'm raking in money from new untapped lands.
Oh Vijay and Chandhok, we've got India now
But win just one race, you'll be revered like a cow."