Twas the last good nights sleep

by Kim Golling

 

Twas the Night before inauguration, when all through the White House

Not a President or an Elect was sleeping, not even a gray haired mouse.

 

The Speeches were done, laid by the chimney with care

In hopes that ‘St. Nick’s Proofreading & Editing’ soon would be there

 

The Cabinet Members were nestled all snug with the Feds

While visions of Grandeur danced in their heads

 

And Mrs. “O” in her Armani and Mr. “O” with his cigs

Had just settled back to enjoy more Bush digs

 

When somewhere between the West Wing and the East

There arouse such a clatter, a big bang at the least

 

Away went the Secret Service to see what’s the buzz

Called out the National Guard and woke up the fuzz

 

The Moon shimmered somewhat, but dimmed by the smog

That’s what the environmentalists said, but it was really just fog

 

When what to the wondering eye should appear

But a van driving up, lights off and in low gear

 

With a little old driver so sly and so slick

I knew it was the editing services of little old St. Nick’s

 

More wicked and evil their courses they came

Mr. “O” whistled and chortled then called them by name

 

Reverend Wright, good to see you, help Miss Streisand from the van

Mayor Daley, Good Ol’ Tony, please help if you can

 

There was Ayer and George Clooney, even Oprah joined the crew

“Quick, down the tunnel, Whoopi, hurry, you too!”

 

The raucous that was caused earlier was just a sly scheme

To distract the police squads and the whole Secret Service Team

 

And then in a pounding, you could hear them all run

Down the corridor, up the passageway, happy he’d won

 

They made their way past the Oval Office, the Cabinet Room and West Wing

Past many other rooms of Blue, Red, even Green

 

A stack full of papers they clutched tight to their breast

They must get this done there was no time to rest

 

Mr. “O”’s eyes how they crinkled, his smirk ever so daring

His cheeks how they raised as he smiled, his teeth baring

 

His dull little mouth was drawn tight in a kink

As the cigarette butts in the ashtray were starting to stink

 

The end of a cigarette held tight in his lips

And the smoke it encircled him as he stood hands on hips

 

He had an announcement “I’m in quite a pinch”

For a moment he looked stunningly like the Grinch

 

A wink of his eye and a nod of his head

Soon gave me that sinking, horrible feeling of dread

 

They spoke many words as they shuffled his speech to eliminate all flaw

Many promises, lower taxes, yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah

 

And reaching to shake hands to all who helped out

Giving a nod, he thanked all and slept well, no doubt

 

But to those who stand stunned at the majority of the nation

Don’t be glum, don’t turn the dial, don’t change the station

 

It’s only four years to endure the pain and to suffer

We’ve had harder times, really much tougher

 

But as we bid farewell to President George W. Bush

Store your food, save your money, buy more guns, save your own tush

 

As we exclaim ere we hide in our cellar

Merry Christmas to all, 2012 will be stellar!