Twas the Night After Christmas.....

A Holiday poem from one of our SMG Club members who moved away earlier this year.

Twas the night after Christmas, when all through Krieghaus,
Not a panzer was stirring, not even a Maus;
The figures were stored in their boxes with care,
In hopes that another game soon would be there.

The gamers were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Gettysburg danced in their heads,
Cap’n Ron in his ‘kerchief, and Jeff in his cap,
Had just settled in for a Krieghaus nightcap.

When out in the lot there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from Krieghaus to see what was the matter.
Drinks in their hands. they ran like the wind,
To open the door – who wanted in?

The moon on the puddles of rain in the gutter,
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects a ’flutter;
More rapid than eagles the gamers they came,
And whistled, and shouted – Dude, they came to game!

As leaves before hurricanes fly in a flurry,
The gamers burst in – they’re in a hurry!
So in to the table-top the gamers they flew,
With packs full of figs - and a few dice or two.

They spoke not a word, but went straight to their work,
And set up their armies; then turned with a jerk,
And laying their rulers aside of their cannon
They measured the distance and rolled with abandon.

And then in a twinkling, was heard in the place
The firing of muskets, and cannon with grape.
They added their mods, and were rolling some dice,
Morale checks were made – not once but then twice!

They sprang to their feet, having rolled very well,
Fist pumping the air, a story to tell.
And they all then exclaimed, while adjusting their aim
Merry Christmas all, and to all a good game!

Happy Holidays from "sunny and warm" Boston...

Bob Walton

⛄