'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the White House
Every creature was stirring, even Cheney’s spouse;
The bailouts were hung by the chimney without care,
In hopes that St. Bull would soon reappear;
Condi and Paulson were tossing and turning in their beds,
Because The Bitch and Geithner pointed shotguns at their heads;
And Laura in her ‘kerchief, and I in my dunce cap,
Had just settled down for one of my last presidential naps,
When out on the lawn there was a big friggin’ shriek,
I sprang from the bed to see who was hating me this week.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
And tore open the shutters to see this guy smoking hash.
His bare chest was all shaven and he wore a maniacal grin,
It was clear he was already trying to move right in.
There behind him stood the ugliest bunch of idiots, everyone,
Looking amazingly similar to the losers I’d tossed out in 2001,
The hash-smoker, all crazy-eyed and pretentious, carried a big stick,
I knew in a moment it must be That Dick.
More dirty than Blago his handlers they came,
And he prattled on about “hope and change” as he called them by name;
“Now, Rahmbo! Now, Hitlery! Now, Podesta and Biden!
On, Daschle! On Hilda! On, Vilsack and Richardson!
To the top of the porch! And inside the Oval Office!
Now dash on away! dash away! dash away all you Republicans!”
With a dry, hangover-coated mouth,
I grabbed Laura and quickly headed south,
And then in came the Messiah pushing us out of the door,
Even kicked ole Cheney in the pacemaker and threw him on the floor.
And then, in a twinkling, I think I heard him zip down his fly,
And urinate all over this great country, because his time had arrived.
But I heard him exclaim before they slammed the door in my face,
“You’d all better rejoice now, the good times end tomorrow, post haste.”
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