HELL'S WORDSMITH
WOW: Steam. Christmas brings out the best in Crowley's many talents ...
Disclaimer: I don't own them
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Crowley wasn't completely opposed to celebrating Christmas in Hell, but he sure as hell wasn't going to put up with any of those schmaltzy, puke-inducing ditties they insisted on singing up top.
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love (that's me, of course) sent to me
Twelve demons smoking
Eleven bloodstains drying
Ten pits a steaming
Nine flames burning
Eight Deans drinking
Seven prats a screaming
Six imps a playing
Five dead things
Four falling souls
Three trench coats
Two hunting bruvs
And a hellhound sitting on me
Damn it, his songwriting talents were so wasted on these demonic plebs.
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