Twas the night before Christmas in a Debris Hut
Twas the night before Christmas
and all thru my hut.
I felt something crawling,
something bitting my butt.
My wet socks were hung
by the fire with care,
hopefully by morning
I'll have a dry pair.
Leftover squirrel meat
hung up in the air,
maybe the smell
won't bring in a bear.
Then all of the sudden
I heard such a clatter,
I crawled out of my hut
to see what was the matter.
There stood a man
all covered with fur,
twas mountian man
I knew it for sure.
He pointed behind him
and then dropped his pack.
" Get ready son,
it's a zombie attack.''
He shouldered his flintlock,
squeezed off a quick shot
right tween the eyes
the action was hot.
He fought like a grizzly
the best I had seen,
all bearded and scruffy,
he smelled like wolverine.
The battle now over
the zombies lay dead,
each bullet he'd fired
was right in the head.
I lowered the squirrel meat
stoked up the fire,
a quick bite to eat
before we retire.
I threw him a piece
as he walked away,
''You cook good squirrel pilgram'',
is all he would say.
