Twas a week before the Nats,
and all thru the fairgrounds
not a van was stirring,
not even a panel.

The buildings were all empty,
the floors are all bare
in hopes that the vanners
soon would be there.

My wife in a wet t-shirt
and me in my jeans
had just settled down
to eat us some beans,
when out at the gate
there came such a rumble,
who the hell is that my wife
started to grumble.

The sun shining bright
that you could hardly see,
I peered thru the fence,
thinking it was TRV.

And what to my blood shot eyes
did appear
a shiny red van 
I think loaded with beer,
the driver he exited
and dressed all in red
with a white fuzzy beard
and white hair on his head.

How can I help you?
I said to the old dude,
trying real hard
not to be rude.