’Twas the Night Before Christmas, 2016
’Twas the night before Christmas in twenty-sixteen,
The election was done and we’d seen what we’d seen.
Steve Bannon and Co. were all snug in their beds,
While visions of swastikas danced in their heads.
Still awake in the darkness, the liberals too,
Saw the swastikas, book burnings, and You Know Who.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
I jumped from my bed to see what was the matter.
The moon on the yellowy, dog-trodden snow
Made it look like some kind of reality show,
For there, in his sleigh, barely wedged in his seat,
Sat PEOTUS, our Leader, the Lord of the Tweet:
“Now Mattis! Now Sessions! Now Rex! Now Scott Pruit!
On Carson! On Perry! On Rice! You can do it!”
He had a broad face, and a broader, fat belly
That shook when he moved, like a bowl full of jelly.
Then he slid off his sleigh with short, heavy jump,
And he snarled when he said: “My name’s Donald J Trump!”
His eyes—how they glittered with greed, lust and hate,
As he lied once again about making us great,
And how he would build an invincible wall,
And expel all them Mexicans, children and all,
And how there’ll be plenty of pie, by and by,
In that glorious land in the sky, way up high.
“So I’m here to give gifts,” he sniffed, “contracts galore,
And power and money—but not to the poor!
Yes, I know what I promised, but that was before
The election, and now I don’t need you no more.
This Christmas is just for my pals, don’t you see?
Though as President all of the bucks stop with me!”
Then pointing his finger and pinching his thumb
He said, “Maybe I’ll throw you a crust or a crumb.”
Though I heard him exclaim, as to Russia he flew,
“Merry Christmas, you suckers—this is a coup!”
