'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the land
Not an army was stirring, no attacks even planned.
The lords were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of glory danced in their heads.
When outside the walls, their arose such a clatter
The men rushed to the walls as the gates nearly shattered!
And what at my gates wished my town to be plundered?
One million archers and a hero -- level four hundred!
The little old hero was so lively and quick
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles, his soldiers they came
And he whistled and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now warriors! Now, scouts! Now, archers and pikemen!
On, cavalry! On, cataphracts! On ballista and swordsmen!
Crush all his armies! To the top of his wall!
Plunder him! Plunder him! Plunder it all!"
Then he spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
And took all my resources, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
My loot went to his transporters, all unopposed!
He sprang from town, gave his army a command
And away they all trod, with my loot well in hand
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas from Evony! And be ready to fight!"
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