Twas the night before Xmas, when all through the world

Not a country was stirring; the horror had not yet unfurled

Doors were bound shut with rigorous care

In the hopes that a certain American would not be there

The nations lay in their beds, unable to get a wink of sleep

For the safety of their homes they had to keep

Germany with his dogs, and Switzerland with his guns

(Meanwhile, Britain could not have been anymore done)

Suddenly, out in the sky there arose a bright light

Neon colours in the shape of a circular kite

Away from the windows those smart enough ran

There appeared a large metal craft, a tiny grey man

And a golden-haired driver, with the strength of a tank

Christmas was here, there was simply no escaping that yank