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'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the Earth,
Not a creature was stirring, for freedom had lost its dearth.
Aliens in power, with ADVENT in control,
Humanity silenced, the Chosen took their toll.


The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. XCOM soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of liberty danced in their heads.


When out on the rooftops, arose such a clatter,
The Rookies sprang from their bunks to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, the Rookies flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters, threw up the sash.


The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the lustre of hope to objects below.
When, what to the Rookies' wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature Skyranger, and eight tiny reindeer.


With a skilled pilot, so lively and quick,
The Commander knew in a moment it must be St. XCOM, not St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles, the soldiers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!


"Now Firebrand! Now, Central! Now, Tygan and Shen!
On, Mox! On, Templar! On, Outrider, no stallin'!
To the top of the Avenger! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash 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 Avenger the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of tactics and St. XCOM too.


And then, in a twinkling, the Rookies heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As the Rookies drew their heads, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. XCOM came with a bound.


He was dressed all in armor, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of weapons he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a soldier, just opening his pack.


His eyes—how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like Fire, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.


The stump of a cigar he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly!


He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And the Rookies laughed when he saw him, in spite of themselves.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave the Rookies to know he had nothing to dread.


He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!


He sprang to his Skyranger, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But the Rookies heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good fight!"

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