Uploaded December 2010 | Updated September 2026, 2 hours ago
Seasons Greatings to all my subscribers and a happy new year
So the Christians want a war over Christmas?
Twas the great war on christmas
T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the land
mythic creatures were fighting, tooth and nail, hand to hand.
IEDs had been hidden by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
Countless elves had been slaughtered while snug in their beds,
With visions of sugar-plum fairies in their heads.
and a choir of arch angels, bombs strapped to their chests
entered Santa's grotto and detonated their vests.
in the middle of town there arose such a clatter,
as canons discharged and the angels did scatter.
and people ran from the windows to hide from the flash,
as tactical snowballs rained down with a crash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
as flames melted snowmen making their burnt coal eyes glow
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a squadron of sleighs, escorted by reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his wingmen they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
they screamed down from above as they strafed at their foes
bombs guided to target by Rudolph's red nose
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
whey twisted and dodged as flack burst in to the sky.
So up to the house-top like demons they flew,
With the sleigh full of payback, and St Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, from out of the night
there came baby Jesus, he'd turned up for a fight.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
a legion of snowmen were dashed to the ground.
St Nick in his fur, red velvet, white hair
fixed the kid with glare, a steely ice cold white stare.
He reach back in his sleigh and into the sack,
and pulled out an assault gun which he slung on his back .
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
he lobbed Jesus a grenade and ducked down in a hurry!
but Jesus was charging, vaulting the sleigh in one go,
with guns all a blazing, bullets riddling the snow.
St nick wasn't there, he'd ducked left, out of sight
where he opened up on Jesus who reeled back with fright,
but he wasn't stunned long, spinning round, taking aim
but St Nick was ready to deal out some pain, !
Finger on the trigger, a squeeze just so slight,
and hot molten lead spat into the night!
"me" shouted Jesus now sensing his fate,
trying to head into cover but it was all far too late.
as he fell to the ground, as if in slow motion,
suddenly dawning on Jesus was this one simple notion.
that Christmas isn't him, his name not the reason,
why we should all celebrate this old pagan season!
It's over, he's done, the battle had been lost,
a bullet ridden body left to glistening with frost
Santa lowered his weapon as smoke wisped from the barrel
And he turned to his sleigh whistling a carol
the war now over at least for this year
St Nick can get back to delivering cheer
Delivering gifts in a mad worldwide dash
And profits for shops in big piles of cash
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'as he adjusted his sack,
"hasta la vista mutherfucker, next Christmas he'll be back!"
Seasons Greatings to all my subscribers and a happy new year
So the Christians want a war over Christmas?
Twas the great war on christmas
T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the land
mythic creatures were fighting, tooth and nail, hand to hand.
IEDs had been hidden by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
Countless elves had been slaughtered while snug in their beds,
With visions of sugar-plum fairies in their heads.
and a choir of arch angels, bombs strapped to their chests
entered Santa's grotto and detonated their vests.
in the middle of town there arose such a clatter,
as canons discharged and the angels did scatter.
and people ran from the windows to hide from the flash,
as tactical snowballs rained down with a crash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
as flames melted snowmen making their burnt coal eyes glow
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a squadron of sleighs, escorted by reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his wingmen they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
they screamed down from above as they strafed at their foes
bombs guided to target by Rudolph's red nose
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
whey twisted and dodged as flack burst in to the sky.
So up to the house-top like demons they flew,
With the sleigh full of payback, and St Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, from out of the night
there came baby Jesus, he'd turned up for a fight.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
a legion of snowmen were dashed to the ground.
St Nick in his fur, red velvet, white hair
fixed the kid with glare, a steely ice cold white stare.
He reach back in his sleigh and into the sack,
and pulled out an assault gun which he slung on his back .
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
he lobbed Jesus a grenade and ducked down in a hurry!
but Jesus was charging, vaulting the sleigh in one go,
with guns all a blazing, bullets riddling the snow.
St nick wasn't there, he'd ducked left, out of sight
where he opened up on Jesus who reeled back with fright,
but he wasn't stunned long, spinning round, taking aim
but St Nick was ready to deal out some pain, !
Finger on the trigger, a squeeze just so slight,
and hot molten lead spat into the night!
"me" shouted Jesus now sensing his fate,
trying to head into cover but it was all far too late.
as he fell to the ground, as if in slow motion,
suddenly dawning on Jesus was this one simple notion.
that Christmas isn't him, his name not the reason,
why we should all celebrate this old pagan season!
It's over, he's done, the battle had been lost,
a bullet ridden body left to glistening with frost
Santa lowered his weapon as smoke wisped from the barrel
And he turned to his sleigh whistling a carol
the war now over at least for this year
St Nick can get back to delivering cheer
Delivering gifts in a mad worldwide dash
And profits for shops in big piles of cash
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'as he adjusted his sack,
"hasta la vista mutherfucker, next Christmas he'll be back!"
