By a smart-aleck Canadian (Bruce Calder)

>         'Twas the Night Before Christmas 2002
>                  by Bruce H.G. Calder
>'Twas the night before Christmas, when outside Iraq,
>American soldiers prepared to attack;
>The U.N. inspectors had searched everywhere,
>To find all the weapons they knew that were there;
>Saddam was all nestled all snug in his bed,
>While Tomahawk Cruise missiles flew overhead;
>In my oil heated house I turned on the T.V.,
>And saw Connie Chung introduce a live feed.
>And out on the sands there arose such a rumble,
>Republican guardsmen knew they were in trouble.
>Turning their turrets, tanks' gun barrels flash,
>Precisely converting their targets to ash.
>The tracers above with their orangey glow,
>Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
>When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
>But the White House press room, many journalists near,
>With a large entourage, all kissing his tush,
>I knew right away it was President Bush.
>More rapid than smart bombs, his cabinet came,
>And he whistled and shouted and called them by name;
>"Now, Powell! now, Rumsfeld!" He spoke to the nation,
>Rice, Ashcroft and Cheney, in an undisclosed location."
>"Until Saddam is gone the U.S. is undaunted,"
>With a straight face he said, "War was not what I wanted."
>As his father before the young Bush guaranteed,
>That he'll fight night and day 'till those people are freed,
>So all over Baghdad, the bombers they flew,
>With a big load of napalm and some cluster bombs too.
>And then the tanks roll and with fortresses flying,
>They crashed the front lines, never knowing who's dying.
>The war had begun and all knew who would lose,
>So Saddam starts to shout, "Time to kill me some Jews!"
>And the rockets he fired to vent his frustration,
>Were matched by the lighting quick retaliation;
>Some billions of cash he had flung on his back,
>Thankful that he had remembered to pack.
>And Bush how he swaggered, his war was perfection,
>He knew he would certainly win re-election,
>Iraqis were cheering the freedom in store,
>Ironically hating The West a bit more;
>Osama responded, or one in his name,
>That the Great Christian Satan must bear all the blame;
>The suicide bombers he freely admits,
>Will now blow your brothers and mothers to bits.
>He was homely and gaunt, a pathetic old man,
>But I feared for the terror he surely would plan;
>The horror he said that would soon be revealed,
>Convinced me America never should yield.
>Bush spoke to the country promoting the war,
>Inferring that no one should vote for Al Gore,
>And saying that freedom must come from a gun,
>Then hopped up the stairs and got on Air Force One;
>He took to the skies heading off to his ranch,
>The head of the U.S. executive branch,
>I thought of the soldiers so far far away,
>And thanked them that I may enjoy Christmas day.

>             Bruce H.G. Calder - December 13, 2002

Marc A. Schindler
Spruce Grove, Alberta, Canada -- Gateway to the Boreal Parkland

“Man will occasionally stumble over the truth, but most of the time he
will pick himself up and continue on” – Winston Churchill

Note: This communication represents the informal personal views of the
author solely; its contents do not necessarily reflect those of the
author’s employer, nor those of any organization with which the author
may be associated.

///  ZION LIST CHARTER: Please read it at  ///
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