The Night Before X-Mas, by Wilson Ray at the Southerner Daily News

"Twas the night before X-mas, when all through the White House,
Not a creature was caring about the troops in Iraq.
The stockings were hung by the chimney in the Lincoln bedroom,
In hopes that Jesus would forgive the mad war plans.
George Bush's daughters were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of lines and shooters danced in their heads;
And mamma in her red dress, and I in my blue tie,
Had just taken our Xanex and crashed for the night.
When out on the lawn there arose such a noise,
I sprang from the bed to see if the terrorists were after us.
Away to the window I flew in a haze,
Peaked out the window in a drug-addled daze.
The moon glimmered off the lawn covered in new-fallen snow,
Off in the distance the homeless fires burned low,
Then all of a sudden it appeared to my eyes,
That Osama bin Laden appeared from the skies.
He drove an armored Humvee with reindeer and flames painted on the hood,
He was so lively and quick, that he could have been St. Nick.
More rapid than Infidels his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Iraqma! now, Mohamid! now, Ullah and Mousowee!
On, Kamaluddin! on Nasseruddin! on, Shahabuddin and Abbas!
To the top of the veranda! to the top of the roof!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away spoof!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of bombs, and Osama too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The crackle and pop of the bombs going off.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Osama came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of bombs he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how evil!
His cheeks were like ashes, his nose like a dildo!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a scowl,
And the beard of his chin was as gray as the ashes;
The stump of a fuse he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a narrow face and a no belly at all,
But he shook when he laughed like the evil-doer walking tall.
He was skinny and drawn, a right sick old elf,
And I screamed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had everything to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his Humvee, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Ramadan to all, and to all Americans goodbye."