'Twas the Night Before Giftmas
Dec. 24th, 2009 09:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
winneganfakeYeah, yeah, forced rhymes, horrible composition, all that- still It was fun to make if nothing else- enjoy!
'Twas the Night Before Giftmas
'Twas the night before Giftmas, and all through the lab,
not a creature was stirring, not even the hag.
All the mantraps were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that the red guy soon would be there.
The monsters were nestled, all snug in their cages
With visions of murderous psychotic rages
And the wife in her kerchief and I with my shotgun
Had just settled in for a long Giftmas snoggin'.
When out on the lawn there arose such a yell
I sprang from my bed shouting forth "Bloody Hell!"
Away to the porch I flew like a bat
Threw open the door and tripped over the mat.
The moon on the frost threw forth squamous light
Gave an unhealthy glow the unnatural sight
When what to my shocked eyeballs should appear
But hungering zombies, faces drawn drear
With a horned red driver, so mean and so quick
I knew in a moment it must be Old Nick
More rapid than humans, the corpses approached
And he whistled, and shouted, and lashed them all forth.
"Now howlers! Now demons! Now freaks, geeks, and leeches!
On bastards, on monsters, on zombies, and creatures
To the top of the porch! To the top of the stair!
Get every one of them! Leave nothing there!"
As broken bodies they crawled, dragged, and marched
As if their bodies had been all a-starched
So up to the front porch the shamblers drew
In their ragged formation, their heads all askew.
And then in a moment, I heard on the roof
The rapping and tapping of each cloven hoof
I ducked back inside and was turning around
Down the chimney the Devil arrived in a bound.
He wore not a stitch, from his head to his prick
Aside from his mustache, both pointed and thick.
A pitchfork was slung up over one shoulder
And he bore himself proud as a mad Cossack soldier
His eyes- how they burned, his teeth how they gnashed,
As I threatened to kick his most devilish ass.
His smirking mouth drew down in a sneer
And he lowered his horns like some kind of steer.
The stump of a cigar he clenched in his teeth
And the smoke of filled the room with its reek
He leveled the pitchfork at me and sighed:
"Come on, you blighter, it's time that you died."
I spoke not a word, but took careful aim
On the family jewels, the devil's own seed
And I gave him both barrels, without barely a pause
Yes, I shot the devil smack square in the balls
He sprang out the door, only limping, not dead
And took all the zombies, even the last severed head
But I heard him exclaim, ere they marched up the ave
"Merry Giftmas to all, and to all- WATCH YOUR ASS!"
'Twas the Night Before Giftmas
'Twas the night before Giftmas, and all through the lab,
not a creature was stirring, not even the hag.
All the mantraps were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that the red guy soon would be there.
The monsters were nestled, all snug in their cages
With visions of murderous psychotic rages
And the wife in her kerchief and I with my shotgun
Had just settled in for a long Giftmas snoggin'.
When out on the lawn there arose such a yell
I sprang from my bed shouting forth "Bloody Hell!"
Away to the porch I flew like a bat
Threw open the door and tripped over the mat.
The moon on the frost threw forth squamous light
Gave an unhealthy glow the unnatural sight
When what to my shocked eyeballs should appear
But hungering zombies, faces drawn drear
With a horned red driver, so mean and so quick
I knew in a moment it must be Old Nick
More rapid than humans, the corpses approached
And he whistled, and shouted, and lashed them all forth.
"Now howlers! Now demons! Now freaks, geeks, and leeches!
On bastards, on monsters, on zombies, and creatures
To the top of the porch! To the top of the stair!
Get every one of them! Leave nothing there!"
As broken bodies they crawled, dragged, and marched
As if their bodies had been all a-starched
So up to the front porch the shamblers drew
In their ragged formation, their heads all askew.
And then in a moment, I heard on the roof
The rapping and tapping of each cloven hoof
I ducked back inside and was turning around
Down the chimney the Devil arrived in a bound.
He wore not a stitch, from his head to his prick
Aside from his mustache, both pointed and thick.
A pitchfork was slung up over one shoulder
And he bore himself proud as a mad Cossack soldier
His eyes- how they burned, his teeth how they gnashed,
As I threatened to kick his most devilish ass.
His smirking mouth drew down in a sneer
And he lowered his horns like some kind of steer.
The stump of a cigar he clenched in his teeth
And the smoke of filled the room with its reek
He leveled the pitchfork at me and sighed:
"Come on, you blighter, it's time that you died."
I spoke not a word, but took careful aim
On the family jewels, the devil's own seed
And I gave him both barrels, without barely a pause
Yes, I shot the devil smack square in the balls
He sprang out the door, only limping, not dead
And took all the zombies, even the last severed head
But I heard him exclaim, ere they marched up the ave
"Merry Giftmas to all, and to all- WATCH YOUR ASS!"
(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-25 03:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-26 01:38 am (UTC)Though I've been a bit surprised by the rather lackluster response to it- I mean, I know it's christmas, but still....