Advertisement
Not a member of Pastebin yet?
Sign Up,
it unlocks many cool features!
- Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the camp
- Not a creature was stirring, not even a tech.
- The stockings were hung by the Coleman with care,
- In hopes that St Jimmy soon would be there.
- The battalion was nestled all snug in their beds,
- While visions of end-ex danced in their heads.
- And CSM in his shemagh, and I in my toque,
- Had just settled our stomachs from hard ration goop.
- When out on the trench line there arose such a clatter,
- I sprang from my fartsack to see what was the matter.
- Away to the door I flew like a flash,
- Tore open the rain fly and threw up the sash.
- The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
- Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
- When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
- But a miniature rad-van, and eight tiny reindeer.
- With a little old driver, so lively and angry,
- I knew in a moment it must be St Jimmy.
- More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
- And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
- "Now, Sunray! now, Moonbeam! now, Seagull and Nutshell!
- On, Ironside! On, Starlight! on, Pronto and Bluebell!
- To the top of the tent! to the top of the wall!
- Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
- As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
- When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
- So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
- With the sleigh full of COMSEC, and St Jimmy too.
- And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
- The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
- As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
- Down the chimney St Jimmy came with a bound.
- He was dressed all in CADPAT, from his head to his foot,
- And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
- A bundle of Orders he had flung on his back,
- And he looked like a hobo, just opening his pack.
- His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
- His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
- His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
- And the beard of his chin was as cammed as the snow.
- The lip of dip, he held tight in his cheek,
- Of whiskey and rage, did this SigOp reek.
- He had a broad face and a little round belly,
- That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
- He was chubby and plump, 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 filled all the crypto, then turned with a jerk.
- And laying his finger aside of his nose,
- And giving a nod, up the stovepipe he rose!
- He sprang to his truck, to his team gave a whistle,
- And away they all flew like the engines of rockets.
- But I heard him exclaim, βere he drove out of sight,
- "Happy Christmas to all, fucking hands out of pockets"
Advertisement
Add Comment
Please, Sign In to add comment
Advertisement