Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Nakatomi
Not a businessman was stirring, not even a manager.
The liquor was placed by the tables with care,
In hopes that party goers soon would be there.
The people were arriving all dressed in their suits,
While visions of drinks and bonuses filled their heads.
And McClane in his outift, and gift in hand,
Had just settled in from a long winter’s flight.
When out in the lobby there arose such a clatter,
He sprang from the room to see what was the matter.
Away to the window he flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and took up cover.
The floor of the lobby of the newly finished plaza
Gave the view to the objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But Hans Gruber, and 12 armed men.
With a german accent, so lively and thick,
I knew in a moment it must be the Leader.
More rapid than bullets his demands they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called to his men!
“Now Karl! now, Franco! now, Tony, Theo and Alexander!
On, Marco and Kristoff! On, Eddie and Uli! on Heinrich, Fritz and James!
To the top of the tower! to the top of the building!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, McClane standing by.
So up to the tower the terrorists they flew,
With the bag full of explosives, and Hans Gruber too.
And then, in an elevator, McClane heard from the room
The prancing and pawing of each terrorist foot.
As he drew in his head, and was turning around,
Open the elevator to Gruber came with a bound.
He was dressed all in a suit, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were adorned with guns that shoot.
A bundle of explosives he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a terrorist, just ready to attack.
McClane’s eyes-now wide and surprised! his gun at the ready!
His senses were heightened, his feet as bare as the floor!
He ducked and shot, as the glass hit the floor,
And the soles of his feet were torn and worn.
The butt of a machine gun he held tight,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a worn face and little found safety,
That shook him to fight, to stop the terrorists plight.
McClane was determined to fight, a right jolly of a sight,
And he laughed when he saw Gruber, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave Gruber know that McClane was to be dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his back,
And pulled the gun from the strap, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger inside of the trigger,
And giving a nod, discharging the chamber!
Gruber sprang back to his death, to the outside gave a whistle,
And away he fell on down the side of the tower.
McClane exclaimed, with vigor as Gruber fell out of sight,
“Yippie-Kai-Yay Motherfucker, and to all a good-night!”
