Twas the night before Christmas and all through the skies
I searched 'round for bandits with infrared eyes.
My missiles were hung on the wingtips with care
in hopes that the enemy soon would be there.

Below me the soldiers all snug in their tanks,
each in their file all in their ranks.
And me and my wingmen above and behind
had just changed our waypoint and started to climb

And then from my RHAWS gear there rose such a clatter,
I looked all around me to see what's the matter.
And there in the sky but what should appear
but eight russian Flankers all loaded for bear.

My wingman he screamed, "oh what do I do?"
as an AA-10 Alamo tore him in two.
I looked on in horror at this horrible site
with running no option I turned in to fight.

The airframe it groaned a fight was a fixin'
my mount's rusty fuselage dates back to Nixon.
My mind was now racing, my knees were now jelly.
I centered my gunsight on one Flanker's belly

With tracers a'streamin' and death my desire
the Flanker exploded in metal and fire.
I looked back behind my death it now came.
I looked at my enemy and called him by name,
"You asshole!","You pussy!" "You want some of this?"
"Take your best shot bastard, I bet that you miss!"

Adrenaline racing I saw every bullet
my flight stick was back the most I could pull it.
My plane was destroyed by my tormentor
'TO FLY A NEW PLANE YOU NOW MUST PRESS ENTER' -HARI