‘Twas The Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the State House
Not a creature was stirring, least of all a recorded vote;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Speaker Harrell soon would be there;

Republicrat House Members were all snug in their beds;
While visions of Barack’s bailout money danced in their heads;

And Kenny Bingham in his kerchief, and Dan Cooper in his cap;
Had just settled down for a not-long-enough winter’s nap;

When in the House Chambers there arose such a clatter,
That we grabbed our camera and laptop to see what was the matter;

Away to the lobby we flew, on our new media rocket,
To call out these RINOs for emptying your pockets;

But this Christmas, fewer boondoggles lay on the fresh-fallen snow,
Because all of your money was long-ago blown;

They ramped up state spending, without caution or fear,
Not thinking a global, government-induced recession soon would be here;

Your taxes they swapped out, your fees they “enhanced,”
To fund hot air balloons and an okra-themed dance;

A green bean museum? They tried but weren’t able,
But that was the lone boondoggle left on the table;

Now swimming in red ink, with all forecasts grim
They wondered aloud, “Is anything left in this pot we can skim?”

And at that moment, what to our wandering eyes did appear?
But Bobby Harrel’s sleigh, and seven well-fed reindeer (the eighth got furloughed);

That over-compensating driver, so vindictive and snotty,
We knew in a minute in must be St. Bobby;

“Come now, my fluffers, I know things look dour!
But surely some tax dollars are left for us to devour,”

“We’ll rob them on secret votes, we won’t ever change!”
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

“Now, Cooper! Now, Sandifer! Now Skelton and Brady!
On, Merrill! On Clemmons! On drunk Dewar’s lady!

To the top of the State House! To the top of the Dome!
Now dash away! Dash away! Let transparency be gone!

And back off, reformers, I won’t tell you again!
Or I’ll gut your good government bills and send your asses to 3M!”

Charging up to the Dome, St. Harrell’s coursers endured,
With money for universities, ripped off from entrepreneurs;

“The people won’t notice a thing, we’ll be done in a cinch!
You trying to stop me, Nikki Haley? You’re demoted, you b*tch!

And you, dastardly Sic Willie, you of that irrepressible blog,
The one that so effortlessly cuts through my sinister fog;

Well your turn is coming, you take that to the bank!
I’ll fire all your relatives, and say you’re on the take!

St. Harrell’s once-jolly face was now red and quite flustered,
He’d bought all his loyalty, but the bank was now busted.

So he sprang to his sleigh, and gave his team another whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him explain, as he drove out of sight,
“Happy corruption to all, and to all a good-night!”

Comments