‘Twas the Night before No Mas,
when all through the White House,
Not a Fascist was Stirring,
not even Barbie, Klaus
The brown stockings were hung
by the chimney by CAIR,
In hopes that St. Cheney
soon would be There;
The Candidates were nestled
all snug in their Beds;
While visions of the @CNN-poll
danced in Trump’s Head;
And hilLIARy in her ‘kerchief,
and The Donald in his Cap,
Had just settled their Schlonging
for a long winter’s Nap,
When out on the lawn
there arose such a Clatter,
Barack sprang from his Bed
to see what was the Matter
Away to the window
Obama flew like J.V. Daesh,
Tore open the shutters
and threw up the Sash
The moon on the blades
of the new-fallen Gyro,
Gave a lustre of midday
to objects Below,
When what to his white-watering eyes did Appear,
But a big black SUV
and eight traveling Electioneers,
I knew in a moment
he must be Cheney, Dick
More rapid than illegal alien immigrants
his coursers they Came,
And he grunted,
and grumbled,
and called them by Name:
“Now, Bernie !
now, Bush !
now Marco
and O’Malley, Martin !
On, Carly !
on, Cruz !
on, Christie
and Carson !
To the top of the Porch!
to the top of the Trump Wall!
Now ISIS away!
ISIL away!
DAESH away All !”
As leaves that before
the wild weasel Fly,
When they meet with an obstacle,
mount to the Sky;
So up to the housetop
the coursers they Flew
With the SUV full of Ammo,
and St. Cheney too—
And then,
in a twinkling,
I heard on the Roof
The prancing
and pawing
of each little Hoof
As I drew in my head,
and was turning Around,
Down the chimney St. Cheney came
crashing on Down
He was dressed all in camo,
from his head to his Foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished
with ashes and Soot;
A bundle of ammo
he had flung on his Back,
And he looked like a peddler
just back from Iraq
His eyes—how they Twinkled!
his dimples, how Scary !
His cheeks were like YellowCake,
his nose like John Kerry’s !
His droll little mouth
was drawn up like a Troll,
And the beard on his chin
was as white as yellow Snow;
The stump of a shotgun shell
he held tight in his Teeth,
And the smoke,
it encircled his head like a Wreath;
He had a broad face
and a scent that was quite Smelly
That transmogrified when he growled,
like a bowl full of Pork-Bellies
He was chubby and plump,
a right-wing old Elf,
And I laughed when I saw him,
in spite of Myself;
A blink of his eye
and a twist of his Head
Soon gave me to know
He’d look better with Dreads;
He spoke not a word,
but went straight to his Work,
And filled all the stockings;
then turned like a Jerk,
And placing his finger
inside of his Nose,
And giving a nod,
up the chimney he Rose;
He sprang to his SUV,
to his team gave a Whistle,
And away they all flew
like an Iranian Missile
But I heard him exclaim,
ere he drove out of Sight—
“Happy No Mas to all,
and to all a good Shiite !”
