Twas the Night before Christmas

  Twas the night before Christmas cold, dark and foreboding,
  as I sat at the work bench, quite busy reloading.
  The empties from autumn were polished so clear
  For primers and powder, and bullets from Spear.

  And Hornady's soft-points, and Nosier's Partitions
  (My bench ain't no place for brand name omission!)
  all sat in their boxes, right next to the press
  with dies form Pacific, and RCBS.

  When all of a sudden there came such a jolt,
  I grabbed for my Mossberg, and whipped out my Colt.
  As I spilled Hodgdon's powder all over the shelf
  I scrambled for cover, just to protect myself.

  From up on the rooftop, came hoofbeats and snorting
  Like the noise out of L'il Rock, from Clinton's cavorting!
  I eased off the safety, to press-check my auto
  With 230-hardball, I'd knock 'em all blotto

  Were these rogue federal agents, sent by Schumer and Reno?
  Or a staggering Ted Kenedy, in bad need of Beano?
  My question was answered with a knock, and some sneezing,
  "It's Santa, you moron, lemme in there, I'm freezing!"

  I flipped off the dead-bolt and threw the door wide,
  To find St. Nick a'shivvering, Rudolph by his side
  He eyeballed my Springfield, with a nod of approval
  "you're all set," he said, "for dirtball removal."

  "But this is no raid, we're not here to harm you
  or persecute, prosecute or even disarm you"
  instead, said dear Santa, he needed to borrow
  my .357. 'till day after tomorrow

  "it's okay," he assured me, with a hint of frustration.
  "I'm enrolled in the Nation Rifle Association"
  he showed me his card, 'twas a Life Member rating
  "I've had this since me and the missus were dating!"

  "And you see, Brian o'l  buddy, I've gotten real nervous
  "Since Feinstein was elected, with a promise to serve us
  "so henceforth as I'm out there, my presents a'stackin'
  "I want to assure you, I'm legally packin'

  "And my gift for you this year, should give you a boot
  "I've told the Supreme Court to give Brady the boot!
  "Now, Rudy and I must be on our way"
  He said, as he climbed back on the seat of his sleigh

  With the reins in his hand, and my Smith in his pocket
  He jingled the sleighbells and was off like a rocket
  With a pair of speedloaders, and ammo to spare
  I knew he'd be safe, he was loaded for bear

  As he faded from view, I could still hear him calling
  "From D.C., where 'P.C.' is already falling
  "To bad guys in L.A., Detroit and Atlanta
  "I'm licensed to carry.  Don't be messin' with Santa" . . .