‘Twas the night after Christmas, when all through Caldera
Not a krampus was stirring, not even an elf;
The boxes were laying by the tree with care,
In hopes that EvilRooster soon would be there;
The squad were nestled all snug in their chutes;
While visions of amazing guns danced in their heads;
And Dire in his satchel, and I in mine too,
Had just settled our landing for a long looting woohoo,
When out on the sky there arose such a loud clatter,
I sprang from my box to see what was the matter.
Away to the sky I eye like a flash,
Tore open the trees and threw up the downed marker.
The body on the ground of the new-fallen Roost,
Gave a loud whimper to his fallen caboose.
