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!'...