'Twas the night before Election, when all through Palm Beach, Not a creature was stirring, not even a leech; The ballots were hung by the shredder with care, In hopes that St. George soon would be there...
The Night Before Election
'Twas the night before Election, when all through Palm Beach
Not a creature was stirring, not even a leech;
The ballots were hung by the shredder with care,
In hopes that St. George soon would be there;
The voters were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of Democrats danced in their heads;
And the smug pundits in their ignorance, and the media like their
Had just settled down for a long winter's snooze,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature Cadillac, and eight tiny spinmeisters,
With a little old driver, so made-up and saccharine,
I knew in a moment it must be Harris, or should I say Katherine.
More rapid than eagles her fixers they came,
And she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, BAKER! now, RACICOT! now, HANNITY and COLMES!
On, HUGHES! on LIMBAUGH! on, ARI and ROVE!
To the top of the polling place! to the top of the wall!
Now shred away! shred away! shred away all!"
As corporate crooks that before the wild media lie,
When they meet with a legal obstacle, injustice they buy,
So waving to Fox News the cheaters they flew,
With the Cadillac full of paid protesters, and St. Dubya too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the tube
The hemming and hawing of each little stooge.
As I drew in my sigh, and was turning around,
Down the cable and satellite St. Dubya came with a bound.
He was dressed all in dollars, from his head to his thighs,
And his clothes were all tarnished with corruption and lies;
A bundle of bribes he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a drug peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they crossed! his scrunched eyebrows how merry!
His abs were like six packs, his brain sized like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up in a sneer,
And the look on his face was straight out of Cape Fear;
The stump of a crack pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a squished face, like he smelled something smelly,
That smirked, when he laughed at the poor on the telly.
He was rich as a Trump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A squint of his eye and a rattle in his head,
Soon gave me to know I had plenty to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And cut himself a line; then two more like a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a snort, on the cocaine, he rose;
He sprang to his Cadillac, to his team gave a whistle,
And crookedly they flew like a space defense missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"FUCK YOU AMERICA, I BOUGHT YOU OUTRIGHT!"