Thursday, December 19, 2019

A Visit From Nadler Claus

By Seamus Muldoon
(with apologies to Clement Moore)

'Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the House
Not a critter was stirring, not even a louse;
The Articles were filed in committee with care,
In hopes that Impeachment soon would be there;

The Democrats were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of quid pro quo danced in their heads;
And Nan with her Botox, and Schiff Pencil-neck,
Had just wrapped their heads 'round th' impending train wreck,

Then on the South Lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
On my way to the stairs I threw on my trousers,
Turned on the computer and opened my browser.

The girl with the breasts on the news - CNN,
Gave a lustre of half-truth to objects within,
When before my own eyes, well how 'bout that,
Was a kangaroo court and 8 career diplomats,

With a little old Chairman so lively and merry,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Jerry
Weighed down by their burden his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

"Now, Vindman! now, Sondland! now Yo-van-o-vich
On, Volker! on, Karlan!, Fiona you witch!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now smash away! crash away! thrash away all!"

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So the witnesses in front of the House they all stood
With St. Jerry's sleigh, chock full of falsehoods

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 set to announce,
Down the chimney ol' Nadler Claus came with a bounce.

Dressed in tailor-made suits, from his feet to his gut,
His clothes were all tarnished with food stains and smut;
A bag of false charges was flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes—they were beady! his hygiene, how scary!
His manner was greedy. Physique? sedentary!
His pinched little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
The spittle on his chin was as white as the snow;

The cloth of his pants was as tight as it gets,
With the waistband cinched snugly around his arm pits;
He had a broad face and a big round belly
That shook when he spoke, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was flabby and plump, a right sleazy old elf,
But I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
The twitch in his eye and the shape of his head
Soon told me the Prez'nint had nothing to dread;

He spoke to the press, with a visible snerk,
Filled the stockings with coal; then turned, what a jerk,
And picking his nose, he said "Great! Just my luck!"
His ass was so fat, in the chimney he stuck;

He got to his sleigh, just a little bit miffed,
And they drove down the road, due to not enough lift
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—

“Happy 'peachment to all...
...and to all a good night!”

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