‘Twas the Night Before the Revolution.

‘Twas the night before the revolution, when all through the house

not a creature was stirring, not even the louse;

The muskets were hung by the chimney with care.

In hopes that the British would soon be there.


The children were nestled all snug in their bed.

While visions of dead lobster backs danced in their head.

And mamma in her battle rattle and me in my ghillie suit

had just settled down ready for pursuit.


When out in the kill zone their arose such a clatter

I peeked out of my sniper’s nest to see what was the matter.

In the light of my starlight scope

the night had the eerie green glow of hope

And what to my wondering eyes appears

but a guy on horseback hitting my trip flares


He was hooting and hollering from the top of his stallion

The British are coming, so shoot those rapscallions.

I called a stand to and the troops they lined up

all patiently waiting including the pup.


Suddenly they appeared all in a neat row

I slowly began to squeeze the trigger of my tow.

With a flash and a whoosh we let loose a volley

and they all splattered like oozy tamale


At that the world was heard to scream

Let Freedom Ring!!

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