A Christmas Column Reprint

Editor's Note:  This is a reprint  from a column I posted last Christmas on the other blog I use to write.

Enjoy!

Twas the night before Christmas, Sheila Style

Twas the night before Christmas,

when all through the House

Each member was stirring,

playing with pages and not with their spouse.

Nancy’s stockings were hung

In the chamber with care

In hopes that St. Bama

would fill them with Obamacare.

The peasants were nestled,

all snug in their beds

While visions of free health care

danced in their heads;

And mamma Nancy in her kerchief,

and boy Harry in his cap,

Had just settled down

for a long America destroying legislative wrap.

When out on the White House lawn,

there arose such a clatter

Bama sprang from the bed

to see what was the matter.

Away to the window

he flew like a flash

Tore open the shutters

and threw up on Michelle’s sash!

The moon on the breast

of the global warming snow

Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to Bama’s eyes should appear,

But a sleigh full of rednecks, lipstick, guns, and gear.

With a brown- haired driver, so lively and quick,

He knew in a moment it wasn’t St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles her coursers they came,

And she whistled and shouted and called them by name:

“Now, McCain, now Putin, now Teddy, now Osama,

On Chavez, on Jesse, on Sharpton, on Boehner

To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!

Now fire away! Fire away! Don’t let that deer fall!"

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 coursers they flew

With a sleigh full of ammo, and Sarah Palin too!

And then, in a twinkling, Bama heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little boot.

As Bama drew in his head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney, she came with a hound.

She was dressed all in fur,  from her head to her foot,

And her clothes were all bought with hard earned loot.

A sack of surprises, she had flung on her back,

And she looked like a hockey mom ready to attack.

Her eyes – how they twinkled!

Her dimples, how merry!

It was so cold in that room,

her nose looked like a cherry.

Her lips were all painted, in Avon Ruby Red,

Bama was shaking so hard, he fell off the bed.

She was pretty and pumped,

kinda “rogue”, you might say,

And proudly displaying the shotgun

she received as a member of the NRA.

Bama scattered to hide,

but it was too late,

His nightmare was real, he WAS awake.

She went straight to her work,  unpacking her bag

Pulling out the documents, the Founding Fathers had tagged.

The Constitution she held tightly in her hand

While shaking it violently at Bama for his anti-American stand.

She quoted word for word, even the bills

And no where did she find, Healthcare was a frill.

She told him the Declaration of Independence

 gave Americans a choice,

And sooner or later, he would hear all the voices.

Beware! She said, the sleeping giant has awakened,

Thank you Bama, for the anti-stance you have taken

You’ve made us realize, we are still a great nation.

Now America isn’t lost, no matter what you try

The spirit, the people, well, we haven’t died.

She turned and filled his stocking

with classics from Coulter, O’Reilly, and Beck,

Gave him a subscription to The Limbaugh Letter,

 then said “oh what the heck”,

I’ll throw in The Constitution,

and of course, a copy of “Going Rogue”,

Read them, Bama, for they will comfort your soul.

She packed up her bag quickly,

 and said Goodbye,

While Bama crouched in a corner,

 with tears in his eyes.

She shot off some rounds,

twisted her nose,

Reapplied her lipstick and up the chimney she rose.

Bama ran to the window, to watch the sight.

And he heard her exclaim as she rode into the night,

“Merry Christmas America,

the Beautiful, the proud, and the free!”

Dang, McCain

You’ve had too much whiskey!”

 

Merry Christmas!

Sheila