'Twas Krystalnacht, the night before Christmas,in Nazi Germany.
It was the second World War they'd started this century;

Those weren't cookies baking in their ovens, but hell, the Huns had no cares,
They were secure in the knowledge, that world domination soon would be theirs.

Hitler Youth were nestled all snug in their beds,
Dreaming of Jews, Homosexuals, and Catholics with bullets in their heads;

German fathers polished Panzers for the 'morrow's blitzkrieg,
While blue-eyed Aryan mothers bred children free of ethnic diversity.

They rolled over Poland, backtracked to the River Rhine,
Where they laughed as they side-stepped France's Maginot Line;

The frogs might have well have been armed with pointy sticks
for the "fight" that they fought,
'Cause once the Huns broke a Louvre window,
the yellow spine-less Frenchmen all fighting did stop.

The rotten-toothed pasty-white limeys got theirs at Dunkirk,
Chased from an entire continent, they couldn't handle the work.

The Krauts were goose-stepping toward London, when who should appear,
Why a dashing American flyboy taking orders from Papa Bear.

Colonel Hogan leveled Dresden and Dueseldorf, and skipped past Berlin,
But it was over Stalag 13 that he brought his plane in;

A Nazi POW kamp run by the faint-hearted Colonel Klink,
A monocle wearing Kommandant who hated to think.

There was a limey named Newkirk, a frog named LaBeau,
And since it was the '60s a token Negro.
(Ivan Dixon played Kinchloe until until he got bored.
He went on to do American Playhouse and won an Emmy award).

A Sergeant named Carter rounded out Hogan's crew,
(He went on to host Liar's Club and sank from the public's view).

With the help of the good Nazi, fat friendly Schultz,
Hogan's Heroes had no use for a Josef Mengele elf.

They foiled the Gestapo ratfink Major Hochstetter,
And blew up the Reichstaff car of General Burkholter;

Took Sergeant Schultz bar-hopping in Heidelburgh,
Who wisely saw nothing and avoided trial at Nuremburgh;

Hogan slept with Heidi and Helga, the secretaries of Colonel Wilhem Klink,
Bombed their strategic places, then left with a smirk and a wink;

With the help of John Carpenter he video-taped himself getting laid,
But in a Scottsdale apartment too long he had stayed;

It was there in Winfield Place Apartment 138,
That an assassin with a tripod sealed this womanizer's fate;

His head, it was bludgeoned, his neck wrapped with bow,
A June 29, 1978 death, Bob Crane he did know;

Not another Christmas will Superdad have,
but if he was living and with us here today,
He'd want me to with you Yuletide Greetings -- so have a swell day.

Written by me, Dave Uh... "Smith", 1994.