Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the town
Not a Lobon was robbin', not even a prowl.
The guns were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Klaus would bring their fair share!

​

The Police were nestled all snug in their beds,
Playing with night vision, eating donuts instead!
The Jackal in his crib, and I in my cell
I now settled down to that really bad smell.

​

When out on the street there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my cell bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the barred window I struggled and slipped,
And there was bad santa! Angry and pissed!

​

He was tactical, ready and loaded to fuck!
You could tell he was ready, his chest rig magged up!
A glint of his weapon and a nod of his head,
Soon let me to know I had everything to dread!

​

He spoke not a word, and racked his bolt back,
As he lifted his AK and inserted a mag,
He sprang to his sleigh, and grabbed his grenades,
'It's time for Klaus to meet his demise!'...