The night before xmas (twas almost a crime)

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the
house

Not a creature was stirring, not even my spouse,

Her stockings were hung on the back of a chair,

I crept so quiet, they didn't know I was there;

And there they were nestled snug in my bed,

While visions of murder danced in my head;

Him in his boxers, her head in his lap,

How long did he think I'd go for this crap?

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I stopped and turned to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Closed the shutters and then peeped through the sash.

The chopper light on the new-fallen snow

Looked like daylight on the objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

Policemen and Swat, in full riot gear,

They jumped from their cars, so lively and quick,

My heart pounded loudly, they were on to my trick.

Faster than lightening reinforcements they came,

The commander whistled, and called them by name;

"Now, Shooter! now, killer! now, Deadeye and Dixon!

On, Corporal! on Captain! on, Gloc 9 and Hitman!

To the top of the porch! to the roof and the wall!

Now kick in the windows! Surround it all!"

As dry leaves that before the hurricane did fly,

Other men donned their gear, and jumped from the sky,

So up to the house-top the shooters they flew,

With weapons loaded and fully cocked too.

I raised my head up cause what I heard on the roof,

was not the prancing and pawing of a hoof.

As I drew in my breath, and was turning around,

Down the chimney Shooter came with a bound.

Dressed in riot gear, from his head to his foot,

his clothes were all black and dusty with soot;

An assault rifle he had flung on his back,

he looked quite impressive, his radio did crack.

His eyes -- they were sharp! alive and wary!

His cheeks striped, his nose hawk like and scary!

His droll little mouth was drawn tight like a bow,

Close to the floor he crouched quiet and low;

he pulled back his lips over his teeth,

spoke in a mic to a man called Keith;

He had a broad face and a fit slender belly,

This wasn't St. Nick with the bowlful of jelly.

He wasn't chubby and plump, like the jolly old elf,

I didn't laugh when I saw him, I feared for myself;

A wink of his eye and a nod of his head,

let me know, the knife I should shed;

He spoke not a word, and true to his work,

gave me a look; then turned with a jerk,

pointing his finger, I stared at his nose,

he gave me a choice, the right one I chose;

He sprang to the door, to his team gave a whistle,

they flew through the doors like the down of a
thistle.

I heard him exclaim, as he walked out of my sight,

"Wise choice my dear, you have a good-night."

The End

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