T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the void,
Not a creature was stirring—nor ev’ a mouse droid.
The boots were all hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes Santa Fett soon would be there.
The Mandos were nestled all snug in their beds,
While buy’ces and blasters danced in their heads.
Novall in his kerchief and Tag in his cap,
Had went to their cots for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from their beds to shoot stuff to tatters.
And with their jetpacks, they flew like the Flash,
Blasting all that’s in sight: turning shrubs into hash.
The glow of their blasters lit up the snow,
And gave a red shine to what lay below.
When what to their visors agleam should appear?
But the Slave I, so temptingly near.
Pilot dressed up in a full Mando set,
They knew in a moment it was Santa Fett!
More rapid than mynocks, ship’s cannons did whirl,
As Santa Fett his blasters did twirl,
“Up Ordo, up Nate, up Boss and then Par,
Up Fi, up Sev, up Fixer and Dar!
Rappel up the porch and right up the wall,
Now move your shebse, come, my Brothers All!”
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top, they quickly climbed,
As armor clanked softly and cadences rhymed.
And then with a ‘whoosh’, Fett took to the sky,
His jetpack aflame, his blaster held high,
The troopers patrolled along the roof’s edge,
As Fett looked at the chimney’s short ledge.
Fett dropped through the chimney and onto the floor,
His armor all covered with soot, mud, and gore.
Buy’ces and blasters hung loose from his ‘gam,
And fell to the floor with a powerful WHAM!
His T-Visor gleamed with deadly psychosis,
And seemed to give off a type of hypnosis.
He held their gaze with merely a glance,
Showing them they didn’t stand half a chance.
He unloaded gear with a careful firm hand,
And only later did they understand,
That half of their gifts were explosive, you see,
Full of things that go boom more than TNT.
When he had finished, he gathered his pack,
And adjusted the jets strapped onto his back.
He leaped up the flue with a fiery blaze,
Smoked up the room with a gray sulfur haze.
He gathered his clone team from up top the roof,
Shouting loudly at Fi for being a goof,
He yelled for a moment about property damage,
Without that knowledge, I think they could manage…
As they headed off to return to Slave I,
Santa Fett yelled to them that he was done,
“I’m sorry, my vode, I gave you a fright,
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!”

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!
(For those of you who don't know, Taglar and Novall are the masters of the Mandalorian Mercs, a Star Wars costuming society--please don't hurt me!)