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LRB The Fight Before Fistmas 2014-03-12

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Twas the fight before Fistmas,
For the great Van Saar house.
No ganger was stirring,
Not even “The Mouse.”

The juves were unconscious,
The gangers were dead,
And the beastly old Phanta Claws,
Stuck blades in their head.

The gangers had walked,
Into his sly trap,
And now they lay down,
For an aeon long nap.

The fighters had fled,
But they were too slow.
They had not spotted,
That which lay below.

More rapid than eagles,
He slew those that came,
And as he tore them apart,
He called them by name.

“Die Modan! Die Crendell!
Die Sardon and Tricksen!
Die Big-Bones! Die Mudelm!
Die Hectus and Kit-sen!

To the dark of the tunnels,
To the base of the wall,
Run away! Run away!
Run away all!”

His claws dripped with blood,
And on his head sat,
An oddly disturbing,
Red and white hat.

His smile was murderous,
Yet filled with mad glee,
And all those who saw him,
Turned tail to flee.

Once all foes were beaten,
He tore them apart,
And admired his work,
As though it were art.

And I heard him exclaim,
As he stalked out of sight,
“Happy Fistmas to all!
And to all a good night!”​
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YakTribe
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