Hand of Corruption

'Appy Kristmas to all, and to all a good fight!

’Twas the night before Kristmas, when all through the Rok
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Snot;
The sluggas were stacked by the chimney with care,
In the hopes that Orky Klaws soon would be there;

The Gretchin were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Killa-Kans danced in their heads;
Da boss with his blasta, and me with my axe,
Had just settled down for some wintery snacks,

When out on the battlements there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my crate to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the blast shield and threw up the sash.

The glare of the searchlights on new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my beady red eyes did emerge,
But a roaring great sleigh and five snarling boars,

With a hulking green driver with huge meaty paws,
I knew in a moment he was Orky Klaws.
More rapid than red Trukks his coursers they came,
And he grunted, and snarled, and bellowed their names:

“Now, Snorta! now, Grunta! now Maimer and Glutton!
On, Tuskgob! your nose is a go fasta button!
To the top of the bastion! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!

As leaves that before the Dakkajets fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the fortress the jet-pigs they flew
With the sleigh full of gubbinz, and Orky Klaws too-

And then, with a crash, I heard on the roof
The crash of the boars and their dirty great hooves.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Orky Klaws fell with a bound.

He was dressed all in armour, from his head to his foot,
And his kit was all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of shootas he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a Big Mek about to attack.

His teef – how they glistened! his choppa, how rusty!
His bionics were crude, he smelt a bit musty1
The drool from his mouth was slimy and wet;
And his bionic eye was evil and red;

A super krak stikkbomb was held tight in his teef,
And the smoke from his burna looked just like a wreath;
He had a broad face, and big metal arm
That hissed with hydraulics when he wanted to harm.

His Grots were all tangled all up in themselves,
And I grunted with laughter, in spite of myself;
A huge wooden crate down the chimney did smash
And the Grots set to work, with hammers they thrashed;

Klaws spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Kustomized the sluggas; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
Ignited his jump pack, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his pigs gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a badly aimed missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he flew out of sight-
“’Appy Kristmas to all, and to all a good fight!"

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TimothyBrockway

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