A Visit to St. Rick

Twas the night before Christmas, when in Rick Perry’s mansion,
Rick dreamed thoughts of Christianity’s expansion,
The campaign had been hard, and not without hitches,
If only it weren’t for those nasty Gin-griches.

The reports were laid out, from many a pollster,
While Rick’s coyote-killer was safe in its holster.
His wife in the guest room, asleep to CNN,
And Rick’s “friend” Cam sleeping over again.

When out on the lawn there rose such a noise,
The terrible sounds jostled both boys.
“Quick”, Rick said, “Get up and get off me”,
“It’s not what you think, we were just talking strategy!”

He checked the main monitor and ran down the stairs,
He was startled by reindeer, 4 furry pairs!
“Stay right there, don’t you try to run,
It’s been quite a while since I had venison”

“It’s Satan, I can read the name on his chest,
I’ve practiced at the range for this very test.
Weird though, I expected he’d be in better shape,
And what – no tail, horns, or red cape?”

“For years, I’ve been dreaming of Lucifer’s capture,
That’s the event that will bring on the rapture.”
Rick pointed his weapon, the visitor froze.
But vanished as soon as he touched on his nose.

Get lost, you and your devilish crew,
Jesus and Texas allow me to blast you,
If you come back, expect to be harmed
And when you do come, you had better be armed!

“I knew Satan would finally come,
I saw it on his name tag during the scrum,
What? It said ‘Santa’? I guess things were hectic,
Sadly I’ve always been slightly dyslexic.”

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