Not usually given to poetry but...
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The beer cans were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
When over the wall there came such a clatter,
I sprang from my pit to see what was the matter.
Away into cover I flew with a hoot,
As I heard the old cry: 'watch and shoot!, watch and shoot!'.