'twas the night before bulletfest,
and all thru the range,
machineguns were stirring,
and gunners acting quite strange!
the targets were placed,
on the berm with great care,
in hopes that chief thunder
soon would be there!
i, in my steel codpiece
and waldo in his vest,
pried open spam cans
of yugoslavia's best!
the gunners were squaded,
in tents and motels.
and chuck stood on guard,
hey? what the hell!
my ears were all plugged,
my muffs worn on top.
all the better to not hear
well armed canton cops!
i thought i had it down!
surely THIS must be fun!
when what should appear?
but a g.e. minigun!
it was manned by a gent,
all covered in soot.
i knew right away
that he had the loot!
he loaded long belts,
and stacked boxes of ammo.
i knew he was serious,
by his perma-pressed camo.
he let loose a burst,
goosed the gun three more times,
the muzzle shook and belched fire,
and he deafened the whole line!
he hopped on his mule,
and closed loading doors fast.
and stepped on the gas
saying, y'all kiss my ass!
he talked to his machineguns,
and called them by name!
on vickers, on lewis,
on maxim and pig!
on browning, on ma duce,
on kalash and tommy!
on heckler and koch,
on stoner and vollmer!
now, blast away, blaze away!
fire away all!
happy freakin' bulletfest to all...
...and to all, a safe shoot!