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'Twas The Night of the Capture
(A poetic Christmas tribute to the 4th I.D.)

'Twas 13th December, when deep in Iraq,
the 4th I.D. had a big enemy to track.
Saddam's stockings were smelly from months on the lam,
In hopes that Dean or Kerry would soon take command.
Our soldiers were nestled in their desert humvees,
they'd been told they were hunting Iraqi V.I.Ps;
And Saddam with head lice infesting his cap,
Had just settled down for an Iraqi-type nap,
When out on the farm there arose such a clatter,
He sprang from his shack to see what was the matter.
Away to his hideout he flew in a snit,
Tore open his pants leaping into the pit.
The searchlight on the dictator now caught in our snare,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to his nasty wild hair.
When, what to our soldiers' wide eyes should appear,
But a bedraggled old dictator cowering in fear!
Beneath the dirty old beard and the lice in his mane,
They were amazed to discover that it was Saddam Hussein.
More rapid than eagles they called up old Rummy,
And he whistled, and shouted, and said, "This is so
"Now, Condi! now, Sanchez! now, Cheney and Bush!
On, TV! on Radio! and Free Republic! Let's Rush!
To the top of the news! Get this video on!
Call FNC first! Then Dan Rather and Tom!
As a gloved doctor examined the smelly old goat,
he shoved a big wooden stick down Saddam's nasty
Around the world in a flash the footage it flew,
As the French and Russians gulped, wondering what we now
And then, in a twinkling, we heard from our leader
as he confirmed the capture of the despotic bottom
As he concluded his announcement, they replayed the
(We heard nothing from Clark and nothing from Dean).
Saddam was covered in filth, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all greasy, with ashes and soot;
A bundle of money he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler who'd sold out to Chirac.

His eyes -- how they sagged! his dimples now pits!
His forehead was covered with curious zits!
His head was examined for vermin and lice,
shaved his face of the beard that was his disguise;
A large piece of wood was probed in his mouth,
(And we don't even know if the gloved hand went South);
He still had a fat face but had lost his round belly,
His clothes were a shambles and his feet downright
He was skinny and drawn, the lying old coward,
And I laughed when I thought of the speech made by
But the spin of the media and a liberal talking head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
Dean spoke not a word; Kerry went straight to work,
And tried to get airtime (sounds just like the jerk),

Bush kept it short, not given to prose,
And giving a nod, up the polls he rose;
He sprang back to work, to his team gave a whistle,
And to D.C. they flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he went on his way,
"Happy Christmas to all -- God Bless the USA!"
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