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Thread: Christmas poem

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    Aussie Member Westy's Avatar
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    Jun 2011
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    Default A 3D Shoots Christmas Poem

    Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
    Not a creature was stirring, not even a Mega Doe as carpshooter had shot them all.
    The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
    In hopes that St Smokes soon would be there.

    The old Ladies were nestled all snug in their beds,
    While visions of PBR'S danced in their heads.
    And MiL in her ‘Thong, and Carpy in the raw,
    Had just Shagged there brains out all night long when C.s Pipes up and says for a long mornings Bombing Run would be good!!!.

    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 with a flash,
    Tore open my jocks and threw up out my ass.

    The moon
    I through was huge to say the least on the new-fallen snow
    Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
    When, what to my wondering eyes should appear but THE CARPSHOOTER had fallen out of his Stand,
    And Landed on L.C withered hand.

    With a little old Southern driver, so lively and quick who hated the colour NIGER!!!!,
    I knew in a moment it must be St Smokes.
    More rapid than eagles his Curses, they came,
    And he whistled, and shouted, and called me a swear name!

    "Now Carpshooter! now, Westy! now, Longcuts36 and Gator!
    On, jwelectric! On, Hutch! on Duanelane and Bunnyman!
    To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
    Now dash away! Dash away! Dash you all!"

    As dry leaves that he had Smoked before the wild hurricane fly,
    When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
    So up to the house-top the curses they flew,
    With the sleigh full of Bibles, and St Smokes too.

    And then, he had a tinkle, Which I heard on the roof
    The prancing and pawing of each little dead hoof.
    As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
    Down the chimney St Smokes like a armed robber came with a bound.

    He was dressed all in CAMO, from his head to his foot,
    And his clothes were all tarnished with POT ashes and soot.
    A bundle of Arrows he had flung on his back,
    And he looked like a Pot Seller, just opening his pack.

    His eyes-how they were Red! his dimples how merry!
    His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a a guy who had drunk to much Sherry!
    His droll from his little mouth was drawn up like a side show,
    And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

    The stump of a crack pipe he held tight in his teeth,
    And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath RIP.
    He had a broad face and a little round belly,
    That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

    He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
    And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
    A wink of his eye and a twist Tounges and a jerk of his head,
    Soon gave me to know I had everything to dread.

    He spoke not a word more like a threat, but went straight to his work,
    And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk called turtleman.
    And laying his finger aside of his nose he picked out the biggest Boogie from 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 Bat out of hell.
    But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
    "Happy Christmas to all, and to the Bloody Aussie You'll get yours alright!"
    It might not be tomorrow or tonight but Westy One day you'll get whats comming to you alright!!!!!!

    The end
    Last edited by Westy; 12-24-2012 at 07:43 AM.
    I've learned that pleasing everyone is impossible, but pissing everyone off is a piece of cake.


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