Bonus Poetry!

Here’s a treat in store for you,
On this Christmas cool and calm.
It’s reprinted with permission from a man named Wikkee,



The house was not quiet,
On this Christmas Eve
As there sat my widow,
In tears, bereaved

Directly beside her,
Tucked into the bed,
Lay my lifeless body
(Minus the head)

Downstairs in the parlour,
The noise was quite loud
For there stood my nemesis
Duncan McLeod

He pulsed and he twitched
(Quite Violently)
With an unknown amount
Of electricity

Mere minutes ago,
As my wife and I snuggled
He burst through my window,
And we locked in a struggle

Steel collided,
As sword met sword
My wife wailed in panic,
(Violence she deplored)

We clashed and parried,
I threw curses around
I knew then I should have built,
A house ‘pon holy ground

I flung him into the garland,
But he recovered with grace
Then he tossed a glass of eggnog,
Into my surprised face

Blinded I stumbled,
The stockings all fell
When it was he got behind me,
Nobody could tell

With a tinsel-ly glitter,
His sword took my head
I plunged for the last time,
Into my comfy bed

And so here we are,
I’m immortal no more.
Duncan stopped twitching,
And moved towards the door

His scabbard retrieved,
He set off at a run,
Yelling “Merry Christmas to All,
There can be only one!”

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