T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the base
Not a Spartan was stirring, not even for Grace

The stockings were all hung in the mess hall with care
In hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there

The Spartans were nestled all snug in their beds
With visions of Grunts getting sniped in their heads

And Halsey in jammies, and Mendez a cap
They all settled down for a long winter’s nap

When out in the fields there arose a great clatter
They sprang from their bunks to see what was the matter

Away to the window Kelly flew like a flash
Abby and Pyper to the guns in a dash

The moonlight shone brightly upon the snow
Giving the sparkle of day to tanks below

When, what to Vin’s wondering eyes should appear

But a Covenant Battleship, the Unforgiving Seer
With a  few banshee fliers, so shifty and quick

Chiko knew in a moment it wasn’t St. Nick
Faster then eagles, through the night they came

John shouted and ordered his soldiers by name,
“Go, Tabby! Go, Sam! To the front lines, stat!
Linda, Fred, Josh…grab guns and attack!

Two squads to the north, form a defensive wall
The bigger they are, the harder they fall!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly
A hundred and fifty Covvie had fell from the sky

So up to the Spartans, they marched in twos
With a slew of weapons, and a Fleet Master, too

And then, in the distance, Greg heard on the front
The growling and barking of each little Grunt

Weapon in hand, James started turning around
When four squads of Jackals sprang out in a bound

Back and forth bullets ripped through the night
Bolts of hot plasma, putting up a good fight

Covenant overrunning, they thought they had lost
When out of the clouds, gliding over the frost

Was a sleigh, eight reindeer and Jolly Old St. Nick
He was a nice old man, with a beard full and thick

And twinkling black eyes, and laugh so merry
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry

He skidded to a stop, and hopped out of his ride
Pulling from his bag a missile that boasted his pride

He faced the enemy and took a straight aim
The Elite leader in his crosshair’s frame

It soared through the night sky, so perfectly lit
And with one crashing sound, the target was hit

With their superior lost, Covvie scattered and fell
As St. Nick’s wise words were, ’Give them hell.’

With the  battle won, and the Spartans amazed
He knew it was time to leave among their praise

He threw them their presents and jumped in his sled
He whistled his team off with a nod of his head

And they heard him exclaim as he flew out of sight
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”