Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the plane
Not a creature was stirring, not even Bane
The flight plan was filed with the agency with care
CIA knowing the hostages wouldn’t all reach there
The prisoners were kneeling with bags on their heads
With visions of sleighbells and crashing sleds
And CIA in his polo, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap
When out on the clouds there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the seat to see what was the matter.
Away to the aisle I flew like a flash,
Tore open the seatbelt and turned in a dash
After shouting and shooting, and questions of Bane
One interrupted Wilson, with self-satisfied disdain
When, what, from under a hood should appear,
But a man, with a mask, and soon it was clear
Bigger than average, but still under detain,
I knew in a moment it must have been Bane
More rapid than eagles CIA’s surprise came,
And he pointed, and shouted, and called him by name
FOR YULE