'Twas the night before Fitzmas, and all through the house...

Twas the night before Fitzmas, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The indictments were sent to the jury with care,
in hopes that Lord Bunnypants soon would be scared.

Scooter Libby was nestled all snug in his bed,
while visions of turning aspens danced in his head.
And Karl Rove in his 'kerchief, and Cheney in his cap,
had just settled Bush's brains for a long winter's nap.

When in the Grand Jury there arose such a clatter,
The Mainstream Media sprang from their beds to see what was the matter.
Away to the window Tweety flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a frog-marching Rove and eight tiny indicted co-conspirators.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Fitz.
More rapid than eagles, his courses they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

"Now Rove! Now Libby!
Now, Cheney and Miller!
On, Novak! On, McClellan!
On, Matalin and Dubya!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away 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 courses they flew,
with the sleigh full of indictments, and St. Fitz 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 courtroom St. Fitz came with a bound.

He was dressed all in a suit, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of classified documents he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was slim and trim, a right jolly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know Bush had MUCHO to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and handed down his indictments, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, uout the courtroom he rose.

He sprang to his limo, 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 Fitzmas to all, and to all a good night!"



:grouphug: