Twas the night before Christmas, in the Senate and House

Not a creature was stirring, except for a louse.

The votes were all hung by some democrats that cared,

In hopes that Obama soon would be there.

The morons were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of pork ladened projects, danced in their heads.

And mamma with her tin cup, and I with my rap,

Had just settled our 401K’s for a long winters nap.

When out on the Rose Garden there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the cardboard box, to see what was the matter.

Away to the flap I flew like a flash,

Tore open the cardboard and threw up the beef hash.

The moon on the breast of the homeless in row

Gave the luster of Dante to objectives below.

When, what to my watering eyes should appear,

But a government limo, and Rahm Emanuel, that queer.

With a little old driver, so slick with the drama,

I knew in a moment it must be Obama.

More rapid than unions his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now ACORN! now, AlGore! now, Pelosi and Reid!

On, Gibbs! On, Huffington! , on Oprah and Mike Moore!

To the top of the Dome! to build a great wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! Go to hell, all!"

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the o’er pass

The belching and pooping of caviar gas.

As I clutched my poor wallet, and was turning around,

Down the tax shelter Obama came with a bound.

He was dressed all in Burberry, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with the gold that he took.

A bundle of laws he had flung on his back,

And he looked like an organizer, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they glowed! his dimples how evil!

His cheeks were like coals, his nose like a weevil!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a sneer,

And the quiver of his chin was something like fear.

The stump of a voter he held tight in his teeth,

And the blood of it’s wallet his head snuck out like a thief.

He had a poker face and a flat little belly,

My wife shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was cocky and sure, a left winger for sure,

And I cried when I read, the laws he procured!

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had everything to dread.

He spoke not a word, he had Gibbs to do that,

And took everything, yes even my hat.

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

He did a big line and flipped off his foes!

He sprang to his limo, to his team gave a shout,

And away they all drove even Michelle gave a pout .

But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,

"You‘ll owe me more next year, make sure that it‘s right!"

With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore (1779 - 1863)