Seems shortly after my arrival here just over a year ago.. there were some of these parodies that I believe were going about,,, thought they were great fun, but can't seem to dig them up... sooooo I know those more learned in the spelunking of the dark crevasses that are CF can help to preform a resurrect.
did manage only this one on a google....
{edit to my flavor and copied to my PCs}
'Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the town,
Hell was breaking loose;
Things were falling down!
The weapons were hung
In the hallway with care;
In hopes that their wielders
Soon would be there.
The children lay trembling,
Entrapped in their beds;
While nightmarish visions
Raced through their heads.
And my companions with a ruckus,
And I with a rattle;
Had just donned our armor
For a long winter's battle.
When out in the street,
There arose such a clatter;
We sprang from the Inn
To see what was the matter.
Away to the square
We flew like the lightning;
Treading with caution;
For the sight was quite frightening.
The splatter of blood on the fresh-fallen snow
Gave a gory effect to the objects below;
When, what to our terrified eyes should appear;
But a towering Dark Lord, who filled us with fear!
His greatsword all aglow he drew from its sleeve;
So we knew all at once that it was time to leave.
More vicious than wolves his minions drew near,
And he smiled, and smirked, and snarled with a sneer:
"Now, Slasher! Now, Slicer! Now Smasher and Shaker!
On, Crasher! On, Crusher! On, Basher and Breaker!
Tear down the houses; break down the walls!
And smash away, crash away, 'til everything falls!"
We "rabbits" before the fierce predators scatter,
When they met with an obstacle, they'd cause it to shatter.
So back to the inn, we decided to go,
With the army of Foes-and The Dark Lord-in tow.
And then with a shrieking,
We heard in the square;
The stamping of hooves
Of a fiendish nightmare.
As we drew forth our blades,
And were preparing to fight;
Suddenly Galen
Emerged from the night.
He was dressed in all black,
From his head to his toe;
Which sharply contrasted
With the white falling snow.
A powerful sword
Was clenched in his fist;
And he stepped like a warrior
From out of the mist.
His eyes-how they burned!
His countenance scary;
His skin was like burned iron;
He was certainly no faerie.
His steel-like jaw was smooth and clean-shaven,
And his long flowing hair was as black as a raven.
The hilt of a great sword he held tight in his grasp,
And his billowing cape was clutched with a clasp.
He had a haunted face,
And fists made of steel;
I wished this a dream;
But it was all too real.
He was fearsome and stern,
A formidable foe;
And we shook when we saw him,
For we had no place to go.
A glint in his eye,
Instilled us with dread;
And made it quite clear
That we soon would be dead.
He spoke not a word,
But went straight to his work;
And engaged us in combat,
With nary a quirk.
I and my comrades,
We fought hard and long;
But it cost us our lives,
For he was just too strong.
He stood over our corpses,
Proud of his win,
And he left us there dying,
Wearing a grin.
But I heard him proclaim,
Ere the light left my eye;
"Merry Christmas to all;
and now you shall die."
He's not only a Dark Lord, but a poet, too, it seems. Do you have a limerick version of this? (It seems to me we had quite a collection not so long ago!)
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