"TWAS CHRISTMAS IN CAMBODIA'

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Cambodia Not a enemy was stirring, not even in Laos Their weapons were hung on the straw huts with care, In hopes that delusional St. Kerry soon would be there; The Cambodians were nestled all snug in their beds, While John Kerry had visions of an attack seared in his head. The enemy settled down for a long winter's nap, When out on in the rice field there arose such a clatter; They sprang from their beds to see what was the matter.

Away to the window they flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen mud had given sight to smug John Kerry, the crazy thug! When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,

A miniature swift boat With Jolly Ole St. Kerry at the helm, so lively and quick, They knew in a moment it must be another Kerry trick More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Hey, Ho Chi and Ding Dong, and Chow Ming Young I'm ready to kill you and rip out your tongue!

To the top of the rice field! To the top of the wall the Cambodians dashed away! Dashed away all. As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, So up to the straw huts the coursers they flew, With the boat full of weapons, Kerry knew what to do! And then, in a twinkling, they heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of Kerry's big hoof. As they held up their hands, and turned around, John Kerry had burned their village down to the ground. He was dressed in war paint, from his head to his foot. His clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; Kerry rifled through their belongings and grabbed all their loot. He behaved like a War Criminal stuffing his pack, for this were the actions of a Cowardly Rat! His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! Alas! this was the real John Kerry. the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath; the Cambodians flesh was burning beneath. He sprang to his swifty, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all paddled like the down of a thistle.

Kerry stopped the swifty, he wanted to pause as "Visions of Presidency" danced in his head, He'll campaign as a War Hero, the Cambodians are dead! If the other Vets dispute me, I'll smear them with shame I'll call them liars and frauds, after all, that's the name of the game. I'll speak with great oratory the voice of command; the voters won't realize its just another Kerry scam!

The Night Before Christmas (Cambodian Version)

Twas the night before Christmas and we were afloat
Somewhere in Cambodia in our little boat.
While the river was lightened by rockets red glare
No one but the President knew we were there.

The crew was all nestled deep down in their bunks,
While the Spook and I watched the sampans and junks.
Our mission was secret, so secret in fact,
No one else would remember it when we got back.

When out on the water there arose such a clatter
I leaped down from the bridge to see what was the matter.
The incoming friendly was starting to flash
And I knew that the ARVN's were having a bash.

The snap of friendly fire on the warm tropic air
Convinced me for sure no one knew we were there,
On a clandestine mission so secret it's true
That I'm still convinced only Tricky Dick knew.

While I huddled for safety in the tub on the bow,
I thought of a title, "Apocalypse Now."
To give to the films I was I making each day
To show all the voters when I made my big play.

As I sat there sweating in my lucky flight jacket,
Spook said, "Merry Christmas!" and tossed me a packet.
And what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a new lucky cap, which I still have right here.

I keep it tucked here, in this leather brief case,
Just sharing with the press its secretive place
As I regale them again with my senate refrain,
That Christmas in Cambodia is seared into my brain.

Don't bother to quibble with history my friend,
By pointing out Johnson was President then.
Don't listen to Swiftees who try to explain,
For I tell you that night is seared into my brain.

Down Hibbard, down Lonsdale, and you too O'Neill,
So you don't remember? Well it's something I feel.
I don't need all you Swiftvets to support my campaign,
Cause Christmas in Cambodia is seared into my brain,

Into my brain, into my brain, into my brain...

Russ Vaughn
2d Bn, 327th Parachute Infantry Regiment
101st Airborne Division
Vietnam 65-66

Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.