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The Merry Christmas Thread

Joker62

ADC
Book Reviewer
I just think this place could do with a little cheering up and - the poem would make things a bit more festive.
I've sent it to you, so post it! Go on, you gutless matelot!
 

Joker62

ADC
Book Reviewer
I'll start
T'was the night afore Christmas
And all the lights were dim
But I was that ratarrsed
I did not see him.

In your own time carry on
 
Too early? You've probably got your tree up already due to lockdown boredom!
Nah - I've decided its too early. I think Dec 15th would be an appropriate date for 'the poem' tio be unleashed from it's slumber.
 

Dredd

LE
He's having you on folks.

The poem is already on this thread.

But it is a bit like this:

Camo.jpg
 
I'll start
T'was the night afore Christmas
And all the lights were dim
But I was that ratarrsed
I did not see him.

In your own time carry on


"The Christmas Blues"

I woke up this morning
da da-da da-dah
My woman was dead
da da-da da-dah
A reindeer come down the chimney
da da-da da-dah
And stepped on her head



Ahhthangyuvermushladeesangennelmen
 
Poem? Poem? I know one

T'was the night before Christmas, he lived all alone in a one bedroom 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 the mantle, 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, at once I could see clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping; silent, alone, curled up on the floor, in this one bedroom home. Not how I pictured a US soldier.

Was this the hero of whom I'd just read, curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?

I realized 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 and grownups 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 God, 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 cold night's chill.

I didn't want to leave on that cold, dark night, this guardian of honor, 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."
 
Do you mean this?


T'was the night before Christmas, he lived all alone in a one bedroom 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 the mantle, 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, at once I could see clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping; silent, alone, curled up on the floor, in this one bedroom home. Not how I pictured a US soldier.

Was this the hero of whom I'd just read, curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?

I realized 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 and grownups 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 God, my country, my corps."
 
Well that's it then. Christmas has been prematurely unleashed. We've peaked too early. How can things possibly get more 'xmassy' now? Christmas day will now be something of an anticlimax.
 

Auld-Yin

ADC
Kit Reviewer
Book Reviewer
Reviews Editor
oh-dear-god-make-it-stop.jpg
 

Yokel

LE
At this time of year, we should remember the alcohol dependent, many of whom will spend Christmas day alone apart from a large container of industrial cleaner, and thinking of happy times, such as meeting @BugsyIV, being unimpressed with the refreshments at Alcoholics Anonymous, or when they had a three for two deal on Special Brew:...

....and posting shit like Robme or MacRaven, amongst many other deliverers of drivel...

 
Last edited:
Do you mean this?


T'was the night before Christmas, he lived all alone in a one bedroom 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 the mantle, 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, at once I could see clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping; silent, alone, curled up on the floor, in this one bedroom home. Not how I pictured a US soldier.

Was this the hero of whom I'd just read, curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?

I realized 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 and grownups 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 God, my country, my corps."


Typical you wait all year then two come at once
 
At this time of year, we should remember the alcohol dependent, many of whom will spend Christmas day alone apart from a large container of industrial cleaner, and thinking of happy times, such as meeting @BugsyIV, being unimpressed with the refreshments at Alcoholics Anonymous, or when they had a three for two deal on Special Brew:...

....and posting shit like Robme or MacRaven, amongst many other deliverers of drivel...

Are you getting your Bugsys mixed up?
 

Yokel

LE
Are you getting your Bugsys mixed up?

No. Dealing with alcoholics is something @BugsyIV has spoken about. The drunks might reflect on the time they sought help at the local hospital and were prevented from taking away hand cleansing gel for use at home. It is just a coincidence that it was alcohol based.

Then the nasty security guard stopped them from looking in the cleaners' cupboard.
 
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