Twas the Night Before Christmas, As We SPY Before The Reindeer FLY!

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the lot,
Not a prototype stirred, not even a hot
New EV or muscle car, cloaked in disguise,
The camo was hung on the bumpers with guise. 
The AutoSpies readers were snug in their beds,
While visions of leaked renders danced in their heads;
And mama in her Tesla tee, and I in my cap,
Had just refreshed the site for the latest spy snap. 
When out on the test track there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my browser to see what was the matter.
Away to the comments I flew like a flash,
Tore open the threads and refreshed in a dash. 
The moon on the hood of the new-fallen snow,
Gave luster to mules below, incognito;
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a fleet of disguised rides, shifting in gear. 
With a shadowy driver, so stealthy and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick—
But wait, no, an Auto Spy agent, elite,
With cameras ready, and fleet on his feet. 
More rapid than Lambos his tipsters they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Render! Now, Leakster! Now, Insider and Vixen!
On, Mule-Hunter! On, Camo-Cracker! On, Donder and Blitzen! 
To the top of the embargo! To the top of the wall!
Now spy away! Spy away! Capture it all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky; 
So up to the proving grounds the coursers they flew,
With lenses full loaded, and telephotos too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The revving and drifting of each turbo hoof. 
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Agent 001 came with a bound.
He was dressed all in black, from his head to his boot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with grease and with soot; 
A bundle of photos flung on his back,
And he looked like a pap just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like radials, his nose like a cherry! 
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stub of a cigar he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath; 
He had a broad face and a toight little belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was dapper and pelf, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; 
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And uploaded the spy shots; then turned with a jerk, 
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his drone, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. 
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight—
"Merry Christmas to all, I'll be spying all night!"