'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The MOLLE stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that reloading supplies soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of gun store ads danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long "drill and tap",
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Then chambered a round and threw up the sash.
My TLR-1 on the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a deuce and a half sleigh, pulled by eight ten-point reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew I must lead him and adjusted two clicks.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, BROWNING! now, COLT! now, SMITH and WESSON!
On, SPRINGFIELD! on WINCHESTER! on, HARRINGTON and RICHARDSON!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry powder that before the musket balls fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, blow it into the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of surplus guns, from WW2.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each reindeer hoof.
As I shouldered my MOSSBERG, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed in Kryptec camo, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with Hoppes No. 9 and soot;
A bundle of rifles he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a gun show vendor just opening his pack.
His eyes twinkled like Trijicon! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were red like my shoulder, after a 12ga mag load strawberry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a crossbow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the cowboy holster rig encircled his waist like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a chubby round ass,
That shook, when he laughed like a tumbler full of brass.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I yelled when I saw him, GET THE F#&@ OUT MY HOUSE;
As he holstered his sidearm with a slow, deliberate nod 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 the gun safes; and the mags as a perk,
And laying his trigger finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a .300 Whisper.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL 2A GUN RIGHTS!"
- L.E.S.