Discussion in 'The Intelligence Cell' started by P.B.I., Dec 15, 2012.

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  1. It was the night before Christmas
    He lived all alone
    In a one bedroomed house
    Made of plaster and stone.

    I had come down the chimney
    With presents to give
    And to see just who
    In this home did live.

    I looked all about
    A strange sight I did see
    No tinsel, no presents
    Not even a tree.

    No stocking by mantel
    Just boots filled with sand. On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.

    With medals and badges, awards of all kinds
    A sober thought
    Came through my mind.

    For this house was different
    It was dark and dreary
    I found the home of a soldier
    Once I could see clearly.

    The soldier lay sleeping silent, alone
    Curled up on the floor
    In this one bedroomed home

    The face was so gentle
    The room in disorder
    Now that I pictured
    A true British soldier

    Was this the hero
    Of whom I'd just read?
    Curled up on a poncho
    The floor for a bed

    I realised the families
    That I saw this night
    Owed their lives to these soldiers
    Who were willing to fight

    Soon round the world
    The children would play
    The grown-ups would celebrate
    A bright Christmas Day

    They all enjoyed freedom
    Each month of the year
    Because of the soldiers
    Like the one lying here

    I couldn't help wonder
    How many lay alone
    On a cold Christmas Eve
    In a land far from home

    The very thought brought
    A tear to my eye
    I dropped to my knees
    And started to cry

    The soldier awakened
    And I heard a rough voice
    "Santa don't cry,
    This life is my choice"

    "I fight for freedom
    I don't ask for more
    My life is my mates
    My country, my corps"

    The soldier rolled over
    And drifted to sleep
    I couldn't control it
    I continued to weep

    I kept watch for hours
    So silent and still
    And we both shivered
    From the colds night's

    I did not want to leave
    On that cold, dark night
    This guardian of
    So willing to fight

    Then the soldier rolled over
    With a voice soft and pure
    Whispered "carry on Santa,
    It's Christmas Day, all is secure"

    One look at my watch
    And I knew he was right
    "Merry Christmas my friend,
    And to all a good night"

    Please think of all those who can't be at home over Christmas...take care
  2. ****.
    • Like Like x 5
  3. *clicks subscribe, sits back to await the inevitable*
  4. I am thinking of them.

    I'm thinking "ha ha ha, stag on you squaddie *****. If you had put more effort in whilst at school you too could be spending Christmas with your family"
    • Like Like x 1
  5. Mary had a little lamb
    she thought it very silly
    she threw it up into the air
    and caught it by its willy.

    Think of the little lambs this Christmastide, oh, and the sock-puppet wind-up merchants.
    • Like Like x 1
  6. We don't need no steenking chreestmaas gringo!
  7. It was the night before payday
    But he wasn't alone
    In an 8 man tent
    Not plaster and stone

    I unzipped the flap
    to give news before leaving
    and dick some poor squaddie
    for guard duty that evening

    I looked all about
    the usual sight I did see
    No tinsel, no presents
    just a feint smell of wee

    No wanksock by mantel
    Just bags filled with sand.
    to keep out the water
    when it rains in Helmand

    With gash bags, and brew kit
    cheap rugs of all kind
    A sober thought
    Came through my mind.

    this tent was no different
    It was dark and dreary
    I found the home of a soldier
    Once I could see clearly.

    The soldier lay sleeping
    silent, alone
    Curled up on his campcot
    In this 8 personed home

    His fat face was rotund
    The room in disorder
    Now that I pictured
    A true TA soldier

    Was this the retard
    Of whom I'd just read
    he failed his PFT
    cos he was sponsored by Greggs

    Probably.....wake up you slack ****, you're on stag
    • Like Like x 15
  8. **** me................every year. In fact I think we've had this old chestnut once already!

  9. My Work Pictures 072.jpg

    Has anyone ever told you that you look like a right scrot? :?
  10. Poetry? Just **** off!!
  11. Agreed, Its hard to decide which I hate most, Poets or poetry!
  12. Yuletide is here - intellectual runts
    posting trite doggerel and acting like *****.
    Surely they know that we're certain to scoff
    our mildest reply being 'Just BUGGER OFF!'
    But no, here they are, like moths to the flame
    playing a part in a masochist's game.
    Hackneyed, emotive, numbingly drear,
    Thank Christ Christmas comes but once a year.
    • Like Like x 3
  13. Mary, Mary quite contrary,
    How does your garden grow?
    I live in a flat you stupid twat,
    How the **** would I know?
    • Like Like x 2