‘Twas the night before Christmas, and through the White House,
Not a creature was stirring, no Obama mouse.
A steel plate was mounted, blocking the hearth.
There be no Christmas spirit, here in their hearts.
The children were nestled, all smug in their beds.
While Utopian visions clouded their heads,
And Michelle in her boob belt, had set a trap.
If Saint Nick dare land here, he’d never come back,
When on the south lawn, there arose such a clatter,
The trap had been sprung! Now Christmas was over!
Yippie Kai Yea! She screamed with such laughter.
If the fat man’s not dead, then I’ll be his master!
I went to my window and threw open the sash,
In time to see delivered, the very first lash.
Swear to me Kringle, you’ll give no more candy,
And sing no more carols that we did not hand ye.
No toys shall be given without gubment approval,
They’ll be from China, Taiwan and communal.
We shan’t put up with your cheeriness either,
Now kneel down to grovel and beg for your life, sir.
I cannot do such things that you say,
You might as well bury me with reindeer and sleigh.
My life is to give for the children, you see,
Not bend to the will of your bureaucracy.
For even if, I could do as you say,
I would never, never, ever have it that way.
You seek to manage each little decision,
Why not leave such things to the singular person?
The living of life is the freedom of choice,
It’s what God intended, as we each have a voice.
To dictate to people what you’d have them do
Just kills innovation and charity too.
I’m begging ye ma’am, for the common folk,
Not for myself, you must turn loose this yolk.
If’n ye did, you’d be so much happier,
You might even enjoy to listen on laughter.
For you and Obama are God’s chosen ones
It is not chance you sit on those thrones.
Perhaps it’s to teach you a little humility,
And to govern much less, and lead with civility.
How dare ye Chris Kringle speak such to me!
As I’ve caught you myself and will not set you free!
My bidding you’ll do and there’ll be no debate,
Or buried you’ll be with those reindeer I hate.
What’ll it be mister fat man of flight?
Will you consent to slav’ry tonight?
Nay. Nay my dame. My answer is naught.
My life is all servitude, but never at cost.
Away to the dungeon! She commanded her minions,
He and his sleigh and reindeer and elflings!
I’ll see you in time, my fat man of frolic.
You think on these things as your deer get the colic.
She retired to the state house as they took Santa away,
With a wry backward glance at the fat man in chains.
The next morning she woke from a frightful dream.
Saint Nick had broke free and was not to be seen.
She ran to the dungeon, where they’d taken the bastard,
Only to find that the cell had been shattered!
With the light of the morning almost coming through,
Outside she ran to see what to do.
Off in the distance, the sleigh bells were ringing,
With a Ho Ho Ho Ho, she could just hear him singing.
One can’t imprison Christmas, she’d learned the hard way,
Much like our Messiah, who just will not stay.
The spirit of Christmas won’t remain in a cell,
It lives in our hearts, and our souls as well.
It’s the spirit of giving as the Christ gave His life.
That He died for our sins was His sacrifice.
The sleigh bells waned and Michelle retired,
As Santa flew home and the morning grew brighter,
Singing his carol and reminding us all
To listen with our hearts, to heed the call,
To live like the Savior, and love one another,
Every mother and father, and sister and brother.
UPDATE: Linked by the missing link! Thanks Lance!