'Twas the Night Before Fitzmas (with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)
'Twas the night before Fitzmas, when all through the White House
political operatives were stirring, even Porter Goss.
The aides were going through their papers with care,
in hopes that St. Fitzgerald would not come there.
President Bush was nestled all smug in his bed,
with visions of Jim (Beam) and Jack (Daniels) dancing in his head.
And Jenna with Vodka, and Barbara with gin,
even Laura, Condi and Harriet decided to join in.
When out at the gates there arose such a clatter,
Cheney sprang from his chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the window with much ado,
tore open the shutter, and shouted, “F--- you!”.
With the aides all running around out of their wits,
Rove knew in a moment it must be St. Fitz.
More rapid than eagles, his indictments they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now Cheney! Now Libby!
Now, Bolton and Matlin!
On, Bartlett! On, Card!
On, Hadley and McClellan!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now (frog) march away! March away!
March 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 White House the indictments they flew,
with cars full of Feds, and St. Fitz too.
And then, with a twinkling, Cheney heard enter the room
the prancing and pawing of a buffoon.
As he drew in his head and was turning around,
Into the room President Bush came with a bound.
He was dressed like a soldier, just one of the troops,
and his walking was erratic he kept going in loops.
A bottle of joy he had in his hand,
and he looked like a reject from a rock’n’roll band.
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 in a smirk,
and told Cheney to drink and not be a jerk.
The stump of a pot pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He looked for Rove and his big round belly,
When he saw Fitzgerald, his legs turned to jelly.
He was smirking and cursing, a right furious monkey,
and I laughed when I saw him, and thought of the Donkey.
A blink of his eye and a jerk of his head
soon gave me to know we had nothing to dread.
Fitz spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and handed out the indictments, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, out the door he went to the Garden of Rose.
He sprang to his car, 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!"