T'was the night before Christmas
and all thru the tent
was the odor of diesel
since the stovepipe was bent.
The stockings were hung
rather close to the fire
in hopes that by morning
they'd be somewhat drier.
The squad was asleep
bundled up in their sacks
and dreaming of goodies
like cookies and snacks,
Like crispy fried chicken
straight out of the South
and a midwestern steak
that would melt in your mouth.
When out on the hill
there arose such a clatter..
a Commie machine gun
had started to chatter,
The Sgt. Grabowski
appeared at the door
"People", he yelled,
"get your feet on the floor,
Grab rifles and flaresand bring me a BAR,
you're climbing that hill
but you ain't goin' far,
Let everyman here
take along a grenade,
and when you get back
don't expect a parade,
I've had it to here
with this damn nightly riot,
So we're gonna make sure
that tomorrow it's quiet".
Then off we went hunting,