‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro’ the house
All the creatures were stirring, as nervous as a mouse,
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes new legislation soon would be there;
The cabinet were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of stock market records danced in their heads
And Melania in her ‘kerchief, and I in my MAGA cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap
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 luster of Trumpian objects below;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a thread-thin conspiracy that wasn’t quite clear,
With a little old driver, very pale and straight as a ruler,
I knew in a moment it must be James Mueller,
More longer than necessary his investigation became,
And he whistled, and shouted, and started calling names,
“Now! Trump, now! Pence, now! Manafort and Kushner,
“On! Putin, on! Comey, on! Flynn and Junior;
“To the top of the porch! To the top of Trumps wall!
“I’ll take my time and investigate you all!
As white lies before the Clintons fly,
When I meet an obstacle the Dems will stomp and cry,
So up to the house-top the story-lines flew,
With the sleigh full of lies—and deceiving media, too:
And then in a twinkling, I heard from over there
A missile being fired and tested in the air,
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Kim Jong-Un came with a bound:
He was dress’d all in grey, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes looked tarnish’d with ashes and soot;
A bundle of missiles was flung on his back,
And he look’d like a psycho just opening his pack:
His eyes—they were black! No dimples: too fat,
His cheeks were filled out, his forehead so flat;
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and they released some pictures of him walking in the snow;
The stump of a missile he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke encircled his country like a wreath.
He had a broad face, fairly obese not to trim
he executed members of his family on a whim:
He was chubby and plump, a right spiteful elf,
And I laugh’d when I saw him in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
His desire to fire missiles filled the Japanese with dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And kept testing his missiles; the world knew he was a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose
And giving a nod, a mad man arose
He sprung to his launch codes, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew, like the down of a thistle:
But the allies exclaimed, ere they drove him out of sight—
We’ve shot them all down, Merry Christmas, good night.
