> 'Twas the night before Christmas, cold, dark and foreboding, > As I sat at the workbench, quite busy reloading. > The empties from autumn were polished so clear > For primers and powder, and bullets from Speer > And Sierra boat-tails, and Nosler's Partitions > (My bench ain't no place for brand name omissions!) > All sat in their boxes, right next to the press > With dies from Midway, and RCBS. > > When all of a sudden there came such a jolt, > I grabbed for my Johnson, and whipped out my Colt. > As I...