Archived at: http://www.alchemistmatt.com/twas/

Contains 849 versions of the classic poem, including headers from most of the posts and credits when available. The versions range from innocent and cute to vulgar and obscene, so read at your own discretion. I have collected most of these versions by searching the newsgroups using Google Groups and the now retired Deja News. I'd be happy to receive any additional versions you might have.

See the Main Index for the complete contents.

Short Title: PoliticsIraq1

From http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/news/755540/posts

Twas the Night before Jihad
Posted on 09/23/2002 5:06 AM PDT by chance33_98

Twas the night before Jihad
and all through the land
Not a muslim was stirring
Not even Saddam

The enslaved women and suicide bombers
were all snuggled in bed
Not realizing that in minutes
They all would be dead

When out in the sky their arose such a clatter
That Saddam flew to his window to see what was the matter
Up in the sky, almost too far too tell
Flew a B1 bomber, carrying a nuclear hell

The glow of the bomb on the desert below
Gave the lustre of daylight to the objects below
When what to his wondering eyes did appear
But a big mushroom cloud as his eyes filled with tears

With a little old pilot, so lively and quick
Saddam knew in a moment that he was in deep s--t
So rapid, like eagles, the Americans flew
The pilot, he swore, must be a jew

Now, Bush! Now, Cheney, and Condolezza Rice!
It was all over for Saddam this nuclear night.
To the heart of Baghdad, right above the palace wall
We nuked that saddam, we toasted them all

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
So the remnants of baghdad rose to the sky
All the houses, and many mosques too
Sucked up into the cloud and away they all flew

He woke up sweating, all quiet this night
Not a bomber in the sky, not a jew in site
He ran to the phone, as his bladder went empty
Better to let those inspectors in then lose his whole country.


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Short Title: PoliticsIraq2

From: Jon Croft (bluewhale@prodigy.net)
Subject: Have A Whale Of A Christmas... (Not A Repost...) 
Newsgroups: soc.culture.scottish
Date: 2002-11-29 21:12:03 PST 
 
Someone was nice enough to email me the repost that Ian so kindly put
up, and I thought I'd take a moment to write a new tale of holiday
cheer before I vanish back into the shadows...
----

'Twas the night before Christmas, somewhere in Iraq,
The inspectors were searching, Saddam was in shock;
The anthrax was safe in a baby milk plant,
but Saddam kept some extra, stuffed down his pants.

Meanwhile the White House was covered in frost,
George Bush had to tinkle, but somehow got lost;
He woke up his wife who was sick with the flu,
And said "This place is *huge*, where is the loo?"

She sniffled and coughed and sat up in bed,
And said "How can you lead with no brain in your head?"
After getting directions he emptied his bladder,
And thought of Bin Laden and got madder and madder.

He'd get Osama if it was the last thing he did,
And like a good boy, he put down the lid;
The next day was fair, he called in his thinkers,
"Gimme Saddam and Bin Laden, the dirty old stinkers!"

"How can we do this?" a General did say,
"Both Saddam and Osama are a long way away!"
Bush slapped the table and started to shout,
"We can't let them win, we must flush them out!"

An idea it came to a top Naval Captain,
"What about that farter, that guy Stephen Hamilton?"
"I know who you mean", a colleague did say,
"His gas smells like rats in a state of decay!"

Suddenly a smile, it crossed Bush's face,
"This plan just might work if he stinks like you say!"
"We'll mail a letter to Saddam and Bin Laden;
And tell them they've won a trip to Bahama!"

"And then when they both are alone in their room,
We'll bring in this Stephen, his arse will go BOOM!
They'll fall to the floor, they'll whimper and cry,
In a vast cloud of Phartrogen, surely they'll die!"

They contacted Jenkins, Stephen's attorney,
And said "Get that man here, and tell him to hurry!"
Stephen reported, was told of the plan;
"I know it will work, I'll fart like a man!"

Saddam and Bin Laden now lie side-by-side,
The world is now safer since they both have died;
And Bush now goes tinkle without getting lost,
And Steve's the proud wearer of the Navy Bean Cross!"

Merry Christmas...
Goodbye.

  Jon Croft
  bluewhale@prodigy.net


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Short Title: PoliticsIraq3

From: Graham Weeks (weeks-g@REMOVEdircon.co.uk)
Subject: 'Twas the Night Before Christmas 2002 
Newsgroups: alt.quotations
Date: 2002-12-13 12:20:10 PST 

'Twas the night before Christmas, when outside Iraq,
American soldiers prepared to attack;
The U.N. inspectors had searched everywhere,
To find all the weapons they knew that were there;

Saddam was all nestled all snug in his bed,
While Tomahawk Cruise missiles flew overhead;
In my oil heated house I turned on the T.V.,
And saw Connie Chung introduce a live feed.

And out on the sands there arose such a rumble,
Republican guardsmen knew they were in trouble.
Turning their turrets, tanks' gun barrels flash,
Precisely converting their targets to ash.

The tracers above with their orangey glow,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But the White House press room, many journalists near,

With a large entourage, all kissing his tush,
I knew right away it was President Bush.
More rapid than smart bombs, his cabinet came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name;

"Now, Powell! now, Rumsfeld!" He spoke to the nation,
Rice, Ashcroft and Cheney, in an undisclosed location."
"Until Saddam is gone the U.S. is undaunted,"
With a straight face he said, "War was not what I wanted."

As his father before the young Bush guaranteed,
That he'll fight night and day 'till those people are freed,
So all over Baghdad, the bombers they flew,
With a big load of napalm and some cluster bombs too.

And then the tanks roll and with fortresses flying,
They crashed the front lines, never knowing who's dying.
The war had begun and all knew who would lose,
So Saddam starts to shout, "Time to kill me some Jews!"

And the rockets he fired to vent his frustration,
Were matched by the lighting quick retaliation;
Some billions of cash he had flung on his back,
Thankful that he had remembered to pack.

And Bush how he swaggered, his war was perfection,
He knew he would certainly win re-election,
Iraqis were cheering the freedom in store,
Ironically hating The West a bit more;

Osama responded, or one in his name,
That the Great Christian Satan must bear all the blame;
The suicide bombers he freely admits,
Will now blow your brothers and mothers to bits.

He was homely and gaunt, a pathetic old man,
But I feared for the terror he surely would plan;
The horror he said that would soon be revealed,
Convinced me America never should yield.

Bush spoke to the country promoting the war,
Inferring that no one should vote for Al Gore,
And saying that freedom must come from a gun,
Then hopped up the stairs and got on Air Force One;

He took to the skies heading off to his ranch,
The head of the U.S. executive branch,
I thought of the soldiers so far far away,
And thanked them that I may enjoy Christmas day.

     'Twas the Night Before Christmas 2002
      by Bruce H.G. Calder
      http://www.calder.net/


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Short Title: PoliticsIraq4

from http://www.counterpunch.org/poems1221.html (and others)

Dubya's Night Before Christmas
 By RON JACOBS

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the land
Every soldier was stirring, down to the last man;
The bombers were ready to take off when they heard
From Me or Dick Cheney-whoever gave the word.

The inspectors were nestled all snug in Iraq
After looking for weapons in every falafel shack;
And Laura in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out in the desert there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the cell phone I flew like a bird,
Dialed the Pentagon real quick and here's what I heard.

The Iraqis had lied on page ten thousand and seven
This meant I could call down the bombers from heaven,
When, what to my wondering eyes should I see,
But a mustached man right in front of me.
His uniform told me, it was all so plain
I knew in a moment it was Saddam Hussein.

More rapid than eagles my coursers they came,
And I whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
Now, Cheney! Now, Rumsfeld! Now, Perle and Franks!
On, Daschle! On Ashcroft, Poindexter, send tanks!
To the top of the porch! To the war room real quick!
I'm finally gonna get to use my big stick!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the Pentagon the coursers they flew,
With their fists full of bombs and a war plan, too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard CNN
Tell the world the Bush's were bombing Baghdad again.
As I raised my fist and gave a quick shout
I heard Saddam Hussein calling me out.

He was dressed in fatigues, from his head to his foot,
His clothes were all tarnished with depleted uranium soot;
A band of his guards stood all around
"You're toast!" I told him. "I'm taking you down!"

His eyes - they were blazing. His face it was raging.
His fists were clenched tightly, His anger needed caging!
His poor little country was being bombed once again
Because my daddy and I were big oilmen;

The buildings in Baghdad and Basra were falling,
And I knew at that moment I had found my true calling;
Osama bin Laden was dangerous but so hard to find,
Iraq is a country and so easy to mine.

Saddam was standing there, a very angry man
He knew that Iraq would soon be ExxonMobil's land;
We like our cheap oil in the US of A,
And we'll kill anybody who gets in our way;

I knew in the morning that the protestors would shout,
"End the war now, Get the US out!"
Ashcroft and Ridge would take care of them-
That's what Homeland Security is all about.

I ran to the telephone, my Dad was on the line
"The bombs look good son, you're doing quite fine."
My mom got on next, she was happy as sin,
"Your daddy's so happy, as long as we win."

--
Ron Jacobs, with apologies to Clement Moore, Henry Livingston (or whoever
wrote the original.). He can be reached at: rjacobs@zoo.uvm.edu


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Short Title: PoliticsIraq5

From: TMartin831 (tmartin831@aol.com)
Subject: night before 
Newsgroups: alt.politics.bush
Date: 2003-03-27 15:46:41 PST 

'Twas the night before war...

'Twas the night before war, and all through the homeland,
Not a dissenter was stirring, by Ashcroft's command;
With Cheney all comfy, at an undisclosed location,
And Dubya on TV, destroying our nation.

The children were nestled, all duct-taped in beds,
While visions of dirty bombs danced in their heads;
Mamma and I listened to Dubya's obsession,
And then settled down for a long decade's recession.

When out on CSPAN there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
I grabbed the remote and turned up the sound,
Expecting King George was about to be crowned.

The Congressman stirred, they seemed rather nervous,
that George would announce the end of their service.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a presidential candidate, who looked oddly sincere.

A charming old lady, small but impressive,
I knew in a moment, she's a Progressive.
More rapid than eagles Dubya's coursers they came,
They whistled, and shouted, and doled out the blame.

"It's the liberals! The feminists! The gays, and that peacenik!
It's the French!, and the atheists!, and that stupid Dixie Chick!
They caused our crisis, not to mention the single moms.
Now get out of here lady, we've got a country to bomb!"

And then with a twinkling the old lady spoke,
Bush paced and he grimaced, his ears nearly smoked.
She talked of the future in her quiet calm way,
She talked about how, we all might live on that day.

The streams, how they twinkled! the lands how green!
The economy recovered, and new jobs to be seen.
The shouts continued, but she kept promoting her plan,
To change the whole world, over a twenty-year span.

Our dependence on oil causes no end of grief,
We must change our economy, was her ardent belief.
The middle class tax burden we could all bear,
If the companies based in Bermuda, would pay their fair share.

Bush stomped from the chamber and clenched his teeth,
The smoke from his ears encircled his head like a wreath;
I notice Perle's face, and a little round belly,
And how his jowls shook when enraged, like a bowlful of jelly.

I awoke on the couch from my short little doze,
On the TV I saw Dubya, still listing our foes.
The old lady who spoke was only a dream,
If a worthy candidate will run, remains to be seen.

The Democrats are spineless, the opposition a joke.
The media won't insult advertisers, and risk going broke.
But the future can change, a wise man once wrote,
And I know one thing for certain, I can't wait to go vote.
 


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Short Title: PoliticsIraq6

From: Docky Wocky (mrchuck@lst.net)
Subject: Twas The Night Before Reckoning, And All Through The Bunker... 
Newsgroups: alt.politics.correct
Date: 2003-03-18 21:27:24 PST 

'Twas the night before Reckoning, and all through the skies,
Air defenses were up, with Russian made eyes.
Iraqi pilots were nestled all snug in their beds
As images of surrender flags danced in their heads.

Every AA Gun on a roof, each SAM in it's tube,
Was redundantly linked to the Hussein family Cube.
But the Yankee dog AWACS gave coverage so dense,
That nothing that flew could slip through the Yankee offense.

When out of the klaxon arose such a clatter,
Dad dashed to the view screen to see what was the matter.
He turned up the gain and then quick as a flash,
The Yankee E-Bomb turned it all into trash.

Call Bush and tell him we'll all go to France.
That should make him happy and maybe he'll dance.
Sorry Pop, said Uday, The phone don't seem to work.
Pop said, Uday, you are such a jerk.

Hurry, send Qusay and Mom out to make a quick deal.
Say we'll all go to Paris without even a squeel.
And all through the bunker, the music - just stopped!
(A penetrator bomb had come through and just popped.)


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Short Title: PoliticsIraq7

From: Camster (camlawnman@aol.comalot)
Subject: Twas the Night................ 
Newsgroups: alt.alt.psycho.mtl
Date: 2003-12-25 09:00:58 PST 
 
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through Iraq 
Not a soldier was sleeping -- they feared an attack. 
Their weapons were ready and loaded with care 
They hoped not to need them, but peace had been rare. 

Some in their Humvees and others in tanks 
Were watching their backs and guarding their flanks. 
The wind made things gritty as it whipped up the sand. 
The soldiers were weary of the war in this land. 

These brave men and women could hardly believe 
They were still in Iraq -- what a bum Christmas Eve. 
But they all knew their duty, so on guard they stood 
For the killer insurgents who meant them no good. 

Then the radar in Baghdad picked up a blip, 
An object approaching at quite a fast clip. 
There was no advance news of an incoming flight. 
The skies were supposed to be empty this night. 

Could it be Air Force One? The commander in chief 
Coming back to serve up another holiday feast? 
No, this was too long and too large in the rear. 
It glowed red in the front, was that shape a . . . reindeer? 

So they scrambled the jets -- high alert! UFO! 
But the night sky erupted with a loud "Ho! Ho! Ho!" 
And the pilots reported the incredible sight 
Of a giant sled airborne in the Arabian night. 

The driver wore red -- with white fur and black boots. 
He was certainly flying, but that was not a flight suit! 
And his considerable girth made it quite plain to see 
That he had not heard of the dangers of obesity. 

'Neath a bushy white beard that went well down his chest, 
You could see he was wearing a new Kevlar vest. 
"O'er some parts of the world," he said from the sleigh, 
"I have to be ready -- I may be in harm's way." 

When he was above Tikrit, he made the sled hover, 
And the soldiers below emerged from their cover. 
How he did it, we don't know, but when he spoke it was clear 
That all of the forces beneath him could hear. 

"I bring wishes for peace and prayers you are safe, 
and I wish I could take you all home from this place. 
But your work isn't done, as I'm sure you can see 
Iraq isn't quite ready for democracy. 

"But you saved me a job when you captured Hussein. 
For the civilized world, he was really a pain. 
So I had in my bag this big load of coal 
That I was planning to dump down his hidey-hole. 

"Now I didn't bring presents for you all in my sack. 
Those will be waiting for the day you come back. 
But I just had to visit to make sure you're aware 
That people back stateside really do care." 

Compared to Christmas at home, well, it wasn't the same, 
But the soldiers felt better that at least Santa came. 
"Merry Christmas!" he called in a voice deep and loud. 
"In the service of freedom, you will make the world proud." 

The soldiers watched the sled rise and race out of sight 
As they hunkered back down for another perilous night. 
And Santa turned north, to stay wide of Iran, 
Taking the roundabout way to Afghanistan. 

-- By Ron Dzwonkowski 

"Darn right the Fire Marshall wanna shut us down"


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Short Title: PoliticsIraq8

From: Prisoner #6 (Prisoner6@gamebox.net)
Subject: A Christmas Poem 
Newsgroups: alt.support.divorce
Date: 2003-12-25 08:08:38 PST 

A Christmas Poem

Twas the night before Christmas as I made my rounds
the reindeer were skittish because of the sounds
of shooting and screaming from the city's outskirts
Tom Ridge and the Bush boys had decreed "Red Alert!"

The spotlights were blinding and lit up the sky
my sleigh was careening while the jets rushed on by
When the black copter rose like Darth Vader himself
I'd wished I stayed home and sent out the elf

A mechanical voice roared "You are ordered to land,
put your hands on your head, your vehicle's been scanned.
We got several questions 'bout the sack on your back
cause the enemy's everywhere planning attack."

"Whatcha think it contains, you half-brained nitwit.
It's the night before Christmas, what you think is in it?"
Then he asked if these boxes myself I had packed.
"No, I got 'em from Carrot Top, they came nicely prewrapped."

For a moment they hemmed, hawed and studied my beard,
then they looked at me funny, as if I was weird.
They knocked me out cold, thus ending the drama,
The Press was called out: "We've just captured Osama!"

So I was arrested, the first time in my life
and locked in a jail cell then joined by my wife
We were charged with resisting and spewing sedition
They denied me my meds for my diabetic condition

Lucky for me my brother's connected
they released us more quickly than I had expected.
It wasn't so bad, but there's one thought that lingers
all the time that I lost scrubbing ink off my fingers

All things considered and this is just a thought
I'll stay home next year and take Christmas off
With the laws that they're passing I could end up in the pen
and poor Mrs Claus would never see me again

But all the world's children who are waiting with glee
at the thought of the gifts that are coming with me
will be better off than the kids in Iraq
whose gift for next year is another attack.

-- 
"The penalty good men pay for indifference
to public affairs is to be ruled by evil men.?
Plato

There is a curse that says may you
"live in interesting times."


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Short Title: PoliticsIraqSaddamCapture1

From: The Kentucky Wizard (KentuckyWizard@hotmail.com)
Subject: (OT) ~ A SADDAM CHRISTMAS STORY 
Newsgroups: alt.obituaries
Date: 2003-12-18 20:43:36 PST 

T'was the night of the capture, when all through the hole,
Not a creature was stirring, except for one soul;
The operation started with stealth and care,
And American forces would soon be there;

Saddam was snuggled inside his dirt bed,
With visions of recapturing power dancing in his head;
And there in a hole getting ready for a nap,
Living like vermin, Like a dirty sewer rat,

When up above there arose such a clatter,
The deposed dictator rose to see what was the matter.
Our troops had descended in such a great flash,
He grabbed his AK-47 and his $750,000 in cash,

The troops had come before he would know
Shining a flashlight beam on the dictator below,
When, what to his wandering eyes would appear,
But United States troops, and his worst fear,

He looked dirty and tattered like an old bum,
He knew at that moment his judgment day had co! me.
More rapid than eagles Special Forces they came,
And he threw up his hands, when they called him by name;

"Come out Now! Do not resist!
We urge you to give up, Cease and Desist!
To the top of the hole! With your hands up high!
Surrender peacefully or you will die!"

And then in his pants tinkling, confronting the truth
The United States forces would soon have their proof.
As he threw up his hands, down below the ground,
A security perimeter was set up around.

He looked unkempt and tired from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were tarnished with mud and soot;
A layer of grime now covered his back,
He looked like a bum who had just smoked crack.

His eyes--filled with tears! His dimples not merry!
His cheeks sunken in, his beard dirty and hairy!
His confident smile was now a great droop,
He was now in our custody in one fell swoop.

He was haggard and slumped, a shell of his old self,
And I laughed when I saw him on the news in spite of myself;
A Medic shining a flashlight into his eyes and twisting his head,
Soon the Iraqi people will know they have nothing to dread:

He was cooperative and spoke words, and will soon confess his evil work,
And we can rejoice in the fact that they captured this jerk,
To the critics who to this point that have held their nose,
Another terror of mankind has now been deposed:

To those who don't believe, listen to the Iraqi people shout and whistle,
Away his regime goes down like a dud SCUD missile.
Then I heard the Ambassador claim, right there in plain sight,
"American troops captured Saddam Hussein the Saturday night!"


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Short Title: PoliticsIraqSaddamCapture2

From: JP (word977@yahoo.com)
Subject: 'Twas the Night before Capture 
Newsgroups: alt.fan.don-n-mike
Date: 2003-12-17 18:31:09 PST 

'Twas 13th December, when deep in Iraq,
the 4th I.D. had a big enemy to track.
Saddam's stockings were smelly from months on the lam,
In hopes that Dean or Kerry would soon take command;

Our soldiers were nestled in their desert humvees,
they'd been told they were hunting Iraqi V.I.Ps;
And Saddam with head lice infesting his cap,
Had just settled down for an Iraqi-type nap.

When out on the farm there arose such a clatter,
He sprang from his shack to see what was the matter.
Away to his hideout he flew in a snit,
Tore open his pants leaping into the pit.

The searchlight on the dictator now caught in our snare,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to his nasty wild hair.
When, what to our soldiers' wide eyes should appear,
But a bedraggled old dictator cowering in fear!

Beneath the dirty old beard and the lice in his mane,
They were amazed to discover that it was Saddam Hussein.
More rapid than eagles they called up old Rummy,
And he whistled, and shouted, and said, "This is yummy!"

"Now, Condi! now, Sanchez! now, Cheney and Bush!
On, TV! on Radio! and Free Republic! Let's Rush!
To the top of the news! Get this video on!
Call FNC first! Then Dan Rather and Tom!

As a gloved doctor examined the smelly old goat,
he shoved a big wooden stick down Saddam's nasty throat,  Around the world
in a flash the footage it flew,  As the French and Russians gulped,
wondering what we now knew.

And then, in a twinkling, we heard from our leader
as he confirmed the capture of the despotic bottom feeder.
As he concluded his announcement, they replayed the scene,
(We heard nothing from Clark and nothing from Dean).

Saddam was covered in filth, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all greasy, with ashes and soot;
A bundle of money he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler who'd sold out to Chirac.

His eyes -- how they sagged! his dimples now pits!
His forehead was covered with curious zits!
His head was examined for vermin and lice,
shaved his face of the beard that was his disguise;

A large piece of wood was probed in his mouth,
(And we don't even know if the gloved hand went South);
He still had a fat face but had lost his round belly,
His clothes were a shambles and his feet downright smelly.

He was skinny and drawn, the lying old coward,
And I laughed when I thought of the speech made by Howard;
But the spin of the media and a liberal talking head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

Dean spoke not a word; Kerry went straight to work,
And tried to get airtime; (sounds just like the jerk),
Bush kept it short, not given to prose,
And giving a nod, up the polls he rose;

He sprang back to work, to his team gave a whistle,
And to D.C. they flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he went on his way,
"Happy Christmas to all, and God Bless the USA!"


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Short Title: PoliticsIraqSaddamCapture3

From: Brash (trooper1962@hotmail.SPAM)
Subject: A Christmas poem. 
Newsgroups: aus.services.defence
Date: 2003-12-15 00:17:12 PST 

Two Weeks Before Christmas!

T'was two weeks before Christmas, And all through Iraq,
The people still worried that Saddam would be back.
The soldiers went out on their nightly patrol,
Capturing the bad guys was always their goal!

With raids seeming endless in the triangle Sunni,
We hoped that not all of Iraq was so looney!
We gathered the tribe of Saddam, in Tikrit,
And suddenly now they all started to snit!

They told of a farm where Hussein just might be
Odierno then called on our boys- from the great 4th ID!
More rapid than Baathists our soldiers they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name

Now Delta, Now Rangers, Now Cavalry too!
On Green Hats, on Pilots, I need all of you!
Go to that farm and secure it right now!
Capture his ass- you guys know how!

Off went our soldiers under cover of night,
So stealthy, so quiet with no trace of light
While we back at home were eating our lunches,
Our boys on the ground were following hunches!

And then it was time for the raid to begin.
The first target came up -empty within!
Could it be our Intel was wrong once again?
No! Somewhere nearby is the wolf in his den!

And then, in a twinkling, camouflage torn away
In a hole in the ground did their quarry lay
Dazed and confused, right at them he looked,
Did the stupid old fool know his goose was now cooked?

He was dressed all in rags from his toes to his head,
And his beard was as matted as 12 day-old bread!
How the mighty had fallen, could this be Hussein?
One look in his eyes was to know he's insane!

Our boys got their man - how proud we all are
The relief in our country is felt near and far
A bath he has had now -yet he'll never be clean
Forever tainted with mass torture and his Fedaheen

To our soldiers we give our undying respect
You always give more than we ever expect
We hope you can have now a night with some fun
Your loved ones back home say- JOB DAMN WELL DONE!

Deborah Sandberg
Proud Army Mom (101st)
14 December 2003


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Short Title: PoliticsIraqSaddamCapture4

From: Chuck (sonnspam@sfdebris.com)
Subject: Re: THEY GOT THE BASTARD!!! 
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.vs.starwars
Date: 2003-12-14 10:18:04 PST 
 
Having seen what he looks like now, I think there is only one rational
explanation for what he was planning.  I will now share it with you all...
in verse:
Ahem.

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Iraq
Not a creature was stirring, not even a yak;
The coalition forces were making their rounds,
Alert for the tell-tale terrorist sounds;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her hijab, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a din,
I thought it was Bin Laden trying to break in.
I ran to the window, both frightened and mad,
I'd soon teach this punk not to mess with Baghdad.

The moon on the breast of the cool desert sand
Showed me a sight not to dismiss out of hand,
For what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I'd heard of this fellow, this man named St. Nick.
But as he drew closer, I felt no longer sane,
For I knew that face, it was Saddam Hussein!

I realized his henchman had waylaid the Claus
And pressed the poor reindeer to service his cause
He'd grown out a beard and dyed his hair white
And was planning mischief on Christmas Eve night.

Gone were the sacs of elfin-forged toys
But the danger was worse than sad girls and sad boys
The sleigh was now stuffed with a grisly affair
A collection of horrors that he planned to share.

I'd heard of the weapons sought by the U.N.
That hadn't been found, well, hadn't tell then
For these were the weapons to kill and to maim
And Saddam led a cry as he called them by name:

"Now, ANTHRAX! now, HANTA! now, CHOLERA and VEE!
On, TABUN! on SARIN! on, SMALLPOX and WEE!
To the Pentagon fly! to the top of the Whitehall!
Now bomb away! bomb away! bomb away all!"

There was naught I could do as he rose in the air
Bearing gifts that it's best overall not to share.
As her rode out of sight, his dread voice then did tell:
"Happy Christmas to all, and I'll see you in hell!"

Chuck, weapon of mass disruption


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Short Title: PoliticsIraqSaddamCapture5

From: Hood (hbilly@cox.net)
Subject: THE NAB BEFORE CHRISTMAS 
Newsgroups: alt.politics
Date: 2003-12-22 14:17:58 PST 

THE NAB BEFORE CHRISTMAS
  by Ken Young

'Twas twelve days before Christmas, when all through Iraq
One creature WAS stirring, hiding under a rock;
The styrofoam was hung over the rat hole with care,
In hopes the 4th Infantry wouldn't look there;

Ol' Saddam was nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of a comeback danced in his head;
And nestled beside him, in a black briefcase,
Was three quarters of a mil, in bills hard to trace.

When up above him there arose such a clatter,
He sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the trapdoor he flew like a thistle,
Looked up the rat hole and threw down his pistol.

The light from above on his crest-fallen face
Showed his captors that he would give up the chase,
'Cause, what to his weary eyes should appear,
But a US soldier and eight more at the rear,

They saw a cowering rat , who'd been on the lam ,
And they knew in a moment it must be Saddam.
More rapid than eagles his curses they came,
And he whimpered , and mumbled, and called them some names;

"Now, boys don't be hasty! Now, guys, I must mention
That you mustn't forget the Geneva Convention!"
Then out of his hole they dragged his sorry butt
And checked him for weapons and searched the hut.

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to their headquarters the captors they flew,
With the briefcase full of cash , and Ol' Saddam too.

And then, in a twinkling, they made the ID
There was no mistake: it really was he.
As they peeled off his jacket and checked his tattoos,
CNN was right there to transmit the good news.

He was dressed like a beggar, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of money he had stashed by his side,
And he looked like a loser who'd lost all his pride.

His cheeks-- how hollow! his head full of hay!
He was definitely having a Bad-Hair Day!
His smart-ass mouth was drawn up in a sneer,
And he just mumbled: " What're you guys doing here?"

A rat's nest of a beard covered his forlorn face,
And they could tell he'd been running on an eight-month chase;
He had lost some weight but still was quite stocky,
And he trembled in fear and raved in Iraqi.

He was sallow and drawn, an almost pitiful work,
But no one felt sorry for the worthless jerk;
The resignation in his eye and the hang of his head,
Soon gave all to know they had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a truth, but went straight to his lies,
And dodged all the questions; then turned with a sigh,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
Shot the bird to his captors as his cell door closed;

He sank down on his cot, to his guards gave a mutter,
And then sadly begged: "Could I have some supper?".
But I heard him exclaim, as he formed his hands in a prayerful "steeple":
"Praise be to Allah; just don't turn me over to the Iraqi people."


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Short Title: PoliticsLiberalDisapproval

Newsgroups: alt.fan.rush-limbaugh 
From: silicon...@lycos.com
Date: 24 Dec 2004 19:43:14 -0800 
Subject: 'Twas the Night before Christmas 

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the House
Just the liberal was purring, being a louse;
The stockings were hung by the tax chart with care,
In hopes that your dollars soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in the liberals own bed;
While visions of that rod and plums tortured their heads;
And demo with his 'brastrap , the lib gave a snap,
Busting into the room to wake kiddies from their nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Lib sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Gayly to the window he flew like a flash,
While his dark little heart shuddered he tossed off his sash.

The moon on his breast and his now-fallen hose;
Gave clues of his lust to the neighbors watching below,
When, what to his watering eyes should appear,
But a van of team swat, and eight men in full gear,

With a lawn parking driver, so lively and quick,
He knew in a moment he was one sorry prick.
More rapid than eagles the coppers they came,
They bristled when they shouted out calling his name;

"You Masher! You Cancer! You, Prancing gay Kitten!
On vomit queer Cupid, you'll soon be smitten!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
They bashed their way! roped their way! climbed with a maul!"

As dry leaves that before the wild scene would fly,
When they met with an obstacle, they tossed up a line,
So up to the window the coppers they moved,
With the pack full of toys, and Winchester too.

And then, in a twinkling, a cop heard the goof
The prancing and pawing of each little move.
As he drew up a hand, and was turning around;
Thru the window swat force came with a bound.

He wasn't dressed with a stitch, from his head to his foot,
And his skin all tarnished with signs of the smut;
A bundle of kids hid behind of his back,
And he looked like a porno queen about to be attacked.

His eyes -- as he tinkled, were those of a fairy
He grabbed his ass cheeks, as if not to tarry!
His droll little mouth was agape like a ho,
And his skin pimpled up awaiting the show;

The stump of a nightstick soon broke thru his teeth,
And the swat team encircled as they breached children's breadth;
He soon had a bruised face and a purpled round belly,
That trembled with pain, and shook like a bowlful of jelly.

He was whimpering and slump, left a dying skum lib,
And cops laughed when they saw him, in spirit of elves
The last wink in his eyes, and a twist of his head;
Soon let the cops know, the children had nothing more to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to the fruit of his works,
They filed from the room; a last look at the jerk ;
And a finger once atop of each childs nose;
Swat giving a nod, and giving some clothes;

They sprang from the scene, swat team with a whistle,
And away with the children, whom did now nestle,
And all heard them exclaim, as they drove out of sight ;
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."


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Last Modified January 7, 2007