'Twas the night before Voting and in Senate and House
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The chads they were hung down in Florida with care,
In hopes that St. Katherine soon would be there;

The voters were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of politics danced in their heads;
And ma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long autumn nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The light from the newsvans was whiter than snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a crazy old white guy, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Mc.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Limbaugh!, Hannity!, O'Reilly and Nixon!
On, Regan! on Bush! on, Cheney and Blitzern!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash 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 house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Mc, too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the old chimney St. Mc came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

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 like a bow,
And the spit on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I'd be better off dead;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned to a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his limo, 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 Voting to all, and to all a good-fight."



(apologies to clement)


tom watson
Regards,

Tom Watson
http://home.comcast.net/~tjwatson1/

T,

That's fun stuff.

cm
"Tom Watson" wrote in message
...
'Twas the night before Voting and in Senate and House
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The chads they were hung down in Florida with care,
In hopes that St. Katherine soon would be there;

The voters were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of politics danced in their heads;
And ma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long autumn nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The light from the newsvans was whiter than snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a crazy old white guy, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Mc.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Limbaugh!, Hannity!, O'Reilly and Nixon!
On, Regan! on Bush! on, Cheney and Blitzern!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash 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 house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Mc, too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the old chimney St. Mc came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

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 like a bow,
And the spit on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I'd be better off dead;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned to a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his limo, 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 Voting to all, and to all a good-fight."



(apologies to clement)


tom watson
Regards,

Tom Watson
http://home.comcast.net/~tjwatson1/