Twas the night before Eid, when all through the flat
Not an insect was buzzing, not even a gnat,
The shalwars were hung in the closets with care,
In hopes that the brats would not find them in there.
The kiddies were nestled all snug in their bed,
While their parents took Anadin for the ache in their head,
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my lacha,
Had just forgotten we ever had our first bacha…
When out in the drive there arose such a noise,
I sprang from the bed to shout ‘SHUT UP BOYS’.
Away to the window I dashed like a nutter,
Tore down the curtains and opened the shutter.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Was as a white laddoo to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature Jeep, with eight guns at the rear,
With a little old driver, so full of drama,
I knew in a moment it must be Osama.
More rapid than eagles his bullets they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Condi! now, Colin! now Dubyah and Nixon!
On, Cheney! on Reagan! on, Rumsfeld and Clinton!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As grenades that before the wild buses fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the roof-top the bullets they flew,
With a Jeep full of weapons, and Bin Laden too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the room
The popping and breaking of each little boom.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Osama came with a bound.
He was dressed for combat, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of bombs he had flung on his back,
Terrorists’ toys he had in his sack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled – his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth curled up like a kite,
And the beard of his chin was as black as the night.
A hookah he held tight in his lips,
And the smoke blew in shapes like desert gunships.
He had a long face and not much of a belly
And asked me at first for a bowl full of jelly.
He was skinny and tall, a right jolly old sheikh,
And I laughed when I saw him, though my knees did a-quake.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Did give me to know I was soon to be dead.
He spoke not a word, as if in a hex,
And filled all the drawers to the top with Semtex,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, on a missile he rose.
He sprang to his Jeep, and his guns did attack,
And off they all drove, on the way to Iraq.
But I heard him exclaim, with all of his might,
“Eid Mubarak to all, and to all a good-night!”
Based upon ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas’ by Clement C. Moore
Aamirsaab and I 'remixed' Moore's poem ages ago. This used to be on my userpage, but since they no longer work, I decided to repost it here. We hope you enjoyed it.
Someone said to the Prophet, "Pray to God against the idolaters and curse them." The Prophet replied, "I have been sent to show mercy and have not been sent to curse." (Muslim)
And as for the onewho fears standing in front of His Lord and restrainsthe soul from impure evil desires and lusts, verily, Paradise will be his abode [79:40-41]
Jazakallah khier for reading. We're glad everyone likes it.
Also, to the member who told us in private that they wanted to make a YouTube video out of it - we don't know exactly how you're planning to do that, but we'd love to see it.
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