'Twas the night before Inauguration, when all through the White House
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The shoes were all thrown at the president with care,
In hopes that St. Obama soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of puppies danced in their heads;
The lobbiests went home without their concessions,
They have settled down for a long winter’s recession,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
The secret service sprang to the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the bunker I flew like a flash,
Grabbed the beer and the stacks of cash.
The moon on the breast of the newly-fired CEO’s
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, still in his pajama,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Obama.
More rapid than eagles his cabinet they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Daschle! now, Browner! now, Salazar and Clinton!
On, Sutely! on Duncan! on, Donovan and Richardson!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now tax away! tax away! tax away all!"
So up to the house-top the Staffers they flew,
With the sleigh full of bailouts, and St. Obama too.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Obama came with a bound.
He was dressed in a toga, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with cigarette ashes and soot;
A bundle of taxes he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a Clinton just following the pack.
His eyes – how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like chocolate, his nose like John Kerry!
He was skinny and tall, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, then peed myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his works,
Change to believe in, with some executive perks,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the polls he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, built by a union I bet,
And away they all flew like a private lear jet.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
“Happy Health Care to all, and to all a good-night.”
I know…it’s trite and over-done, but there it is anyway.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays Unicycle People!!