Twas the night before Christmas and
and all through the place
Everyone had a gun regardless of race.
Mom with her Beretta and I with my glock
Had just settled down for some time off the clock.
When all of a sudden there arose such a clatter,
I grabbed my shotgun to see what was the matter.
There were loud thumping noises just outside the door,
So I ran to the closet to load up the M4.
Fast moving shapes started zipping on by,
I just had to see, had to see what was outside.
Carbine in hand I peered through the door,
And saw something I’d never quite seen there before.
It was a thick armored sleigh, with green camo paint,
and eight little reindeers on tight, thick restraints.
With a big burly driver so strong looking and quick,
I knew right then that this must be St. Nick.
Like flying shell casings his reindeer they came,
and he laughed a little bit and then called them by name:
“Now Smith! Now Wesson! Now Walther and Luger!
On Browning, On Colt, On Sig and on Ruger!”
To the roof he then took them with a strike of the rope,
that had all the precision of a high powered scope.
I rushed back inside in a real mad dash,
and saw St. Nick come into the house with a crash.
He was dressed all in black, he looked so sublime,
I was wondering why I saw no red this time.
With a smile he looked at me and said “don’t you fear,
I decided to upgrade with some tactical gear.”
His face was rugged, worked and well toiled
and he shook when he laughed like a gun in recoil.
A large bag of gear sat at rest on his back,
and at once he knelt down and unloaded the pack.
He set down two .38s with nice antique grips,
Then a vest of Kevlar and some high ammo clips.
Finally with a whimsical, wonderful sound,
he dropped off a huge box of hollow point rounds.
He was incredibly quiet, like a expert trained sniper,
and he moved with the skill of a big lethal viper.
Then he said with a smile as left towards the sleigh,
“Don’t let that Obama guy take them guns away.”
He sprang to the outside, to his team gave a holler,
and then disappeared like so many tax dollars.
And I heard him exclaim as he flew through the air:
Merry Christmas to all from Mr. Wayne Lapierre!