T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the estate;
Not a creature was stirring, cause I'd eaten the bait;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that donations soon would be there;
Jr and Eric were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of overthrow danced in their heads;
And mamma in her silk, and I in my head net,
Had just settled down for a long winter's fret,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from Melania to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and begged for cash.
The orange moon on the breast of newly-imported snow
Gave the lustre of my skintone to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a DOJ van, and the end of my career,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Merrick.
More rapid than eagles his lawyers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, BASHER! now, STOMPER! now, KILLER and VEXEN!
On, CHAOS! DEVESTATION! DIVE BOMBER! BLITZKRIEGEN!
To the top of the porch! on the basement call!
Now subpoena them! subpoena them! subpoena them all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the inquisitors flew,
With the sleigh full evidence, and St. Merrick too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the news
The judging the venom of each network's views.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Merrick came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of subpoenas he had flung on his back,
And he looked like death just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his laughter how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And he guffawed like he was crazy and started to crow;
Indictments he clutched tight in his hand,
He could have got work with the fucking Taliband;
He had a slender face and a no sign of a belly,
It pissed me off, I prayed to Machiavelli
He was thin and respectable, a right jolly old elf,
But I wailed when I saw him, and threw up on myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know, man, I was dead;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Filled the stockings with glee; then turned with a jerk,
He thumbed his nose,
And giving a nod, up my chimney he laughingly rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, IT'S BEEN A HELL OF A-NIGHT!