Twas The Night Before Mw2
Twas the night before xmas
And all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Not even a mouse
The noob tubes were hung by the chimney w/ care
In hopes that 40mms soon would be there
The team was all nestled, snug in their beds
While visions of holo-sights danced in their heads
And Ghost in his mask, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a two-hour nap
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
The claymores went off, what the hell is the matter?!
Away to the windows I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters (that’s it, no sash)
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave luster to players without arctic ghillies below
When, what to my wandering eyes should appear,
But an inbound Cobra, which filled me with fear
With a little old driver, so lively and quick
I knew in a moment it must be [XMAS].-=St_NiCk=-.
More rapid than eagles, the chopper it came
And he whistled, and shouted, staying true to his name:
“Uh, Dasher 5-5, requesting permission to move from the top
of the porch to the top of the wall, over”.
“Roger that, solid copy, dash away all”.
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
So up to the house-top the chopper it flew
With a big-ass chain gun, and St._NiCk too
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
A Tactical Insertion go off with a “poof”
As I drew up my rifle, and was turning around
Down the chimney St._NiCk came with a bound
A flashbang laid on the ground by his foot
It was a dud, all covered in soot
A rucksack of ammo he had hung on his back
He gave his ACR’s bolt a mighty rack
His eyes, they were black, almost mean
The beard on his face made his features unseen
His droll (wtf?) mouth was NOT like a bow,
The beard on his chin was covered in snow
He held a cigar tight in his teeth
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath
He had a broad face and like a flipin 8-pack
He wasn’t the kinda guy who was laid back
He was bad to the bone, yet confident in himself
I could speak when I saw him, I nearly ████ myself
A wink of his eye, 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,
He filled all his mags, then turned with a jerk
Taking another drag on the cigar
He looked off into the distance ever so far
He got to his feet, threw the stogy off the cliff
The wind was so harsh I couldn’t get a whiff
And I heard his voice, as he walked through the snow,
“Break’s over, Roach. Let’s go”.
