Cliff Secord on Nostr: "The Night before Weihnachten" 'Twas the night before Weihnachten, and all through ...
"The Night before Weihnachten"
'Twas the night before Weihnachten, and all through the Reich,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a kike;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Der Führer soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of curb-stomping faggots danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn I heard a cocked trigger,
I thought for a second- it must be a nigger!
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash;
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the lustre of kike-laden ash to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Wehrmacht platoon, and some fine Deutsches bier;
Out front was a leader, so staunch with such fervor,
I knew in a moment it must be Der Führer!
More rapid than eagles his deputies they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Göring! now, Himmler! now, Göebbels und Hess!
I need all my bravest, I need all my best!
With righteous authority, to thee I endow:
GAS ALL THE KIKES, TOTALESKRIEG NOW!!"
As dry leaves that before the Luftwaffe fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, they blast from the sky;
So up to the Volkshalle, his deputies they flew,
In a Hate Bus full of goys, and Herr Rockwell too;
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The awe-inspiring cadence of hundreds of boots;
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Into the room Der Führer came with a bound;
He was dressed in Hugo Boss, from his head to his foot,
And his uniform was untarnished from ashes and soot;
With a bundle of weapons he had flung on his back,
He looked like a warrior just opening his pack;
His focus, how amazing; his resolve, how inspired,
And his kempt hair and mustasche, as black as a tire;
I was convinced that this was no romp,
This cat is as legit as told in Mein Kampf;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
The smoke encircled our swastika like a tight-woven wreath;
He had a broad face but such a kempt look,
I knew in an instant he surely was no kook;
He wasn't chubby and plump, and certainly no elf,
I heiled when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Unlike the System, I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, never believing in lay-away,
And filled all our stockings, with the finest anime;
And pointing his finger, knowing there is war,
Upright he got, and went straight for the door;
He sprang to his Junkers, to his pilots gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he flew out of sight,
SEIG HEIL ZU ALLE, UND ZU ALLES EIN GUT-NACHT!
'Twas the night before Weihnachten, and all through the Reich,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a kike;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Der Führer soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of curb-stomping faggots danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn I heard a cocked trigger,
I thought for a second- it must be a nigger!
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash;
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the lustre of kike-laden ash to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Wehrmacht platoon, and some fine Deutsches bier;
Out front was a leader, so staunch with such fervor,
I knew in a moment it must be Der Führer!
More rapid than eagles his deputies they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Göring! now, Himmler! now, Göebbels und Hess!
I need all my bravest, I need all my best!
With righteous authority, to thee I endow:
GAS ALL THE KIKES, TOTALESKRIEG NOW!!"
As dry leaves that before the Luftwaffe fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, they blast from the sky;
So up to the Volkshalle, his deputies they flew,
In a Hate Bus full of goys, and Herr Rockwell too;
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The awe-inspiring cadence of hundreds of boots;
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Into the room Der Führer came with a bound;
He was dressed in Hugo Boss, from his head to his foot,
And his uniform was untarnished from ashes and soot;
With a bundle of weapons he had flung on his back,
He looked like a warrior just opening his pack;
His focus, how amazing; his resolve, how inspired,
And his kempt hair and mustasche, as black as a tire;
I was convinced that this was no romp,
This cat is as legit as told in Mein Kampf;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
The smoke encircled our swastika like a tight-woven wreath;
He had a broad face but such a kempt look,
I knew in an instant he surely was no kook;
He wasn't chubby and plump, and certainly no elf,
I heiled when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Unlike the System, I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, never believing in lay-away,
And filled all our stockings, with the finest anime;
And pointing his finger, knowing there is war,
Upright he got, and went straight for the door;
He sprang to his Junkers, to his pilots gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he flew out of sight,
SEIG HEIL ZU ALLE, UND ZU ALLES EIN GUT-NACHT!