Twas The Night Before A Korean Christmas

Twas The Night Before A Korean Christmas as Bastardized by Stig and Flint.

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through Korea,

Kang Shin-woo reported all foreigners had gonorrhea.

The Korea Times was printed without any care.

Of plagiarism, or copyrights they just weren't aware.

The mooks were all settled all snug in their beds,

While visions of Blian Golden Balls danced in their heads.

And Omma in her kerchief and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a soju-induced nap.

When out in the street the noise became too much,

As the loudspeaker truck driver ground out his clutch.

Away to the 'balcony' I staggered and stumbled,

and looking out I angrily grumbled.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of cleanliness to the dirty city below.

When, what to my rheumy eyes should appear,

But a piece of shit Kia with the logo of Cass beer.

With a babo old driver, all 'luuded and slow,

He cut off another who wanted to go.

Slower than an ajumma crossing the road,

He hocked up a loogie and spat out his load.

Ya sheepal! Ya Nom! Gaeseki waegook!

Jeshu obso! Our women don't fook!

We're the tops in the world! The top of you all!

But with our tiny weiners we just cannot ball.

Like call girl cards all plastered on cars,

The swear words multiplied like ads on the doors.

The drivers bumped chests and threatened to punch,

But their ardour (like honour) was truly out to lunch.

And then their stumbling led into my hall.

They continued to bluster, but not really brawl.

I had opened my door to see their fake fight,

And they stupidly blinked in the automatic light.

They were dressed in fake track suits

That read "Fuma" and "Abibas."

They didn't wear socks and

On their feet were plastic slippas.

Their eyes how they glared and glowed shiny red,

For baeksoju (their fuel) had gone to their head.

Their puckered little mouths drew down to a frown

For they now knew foreigners watched as they clowned.

Thin little ciggies were clamped in their teeth,

And the smoke stank like the toes at the ends of their feet.

Each had a wrinkled face, dirty and brown.

Showing that their status was considered low down.

They were thin as thin rails, these mean little wights,

And I laughed in their faces at their excuse for a fight.

The squint in their eye and slack look on their mouths,

Soon gave me to know they'd soon shamble out.

They spoke not a word and went out the door,

And peed in the gutter right next to a store.

And digging their fingers into their noses,

They staggered off southward re-arranging their clothes.

I went to my wife and kissed her soft cheek.

This story would last me for more than a week.

And I said to my dear as I put out the light,

"Melly Chlistmas to all and to all a good night!"