‘Twas the night before New Year’s, when up on the Hill,
The Republicans were stirring to deliver the bill.
Fifty-some versions hung in hesitant zeal,
In hopes that St. Trump would sign and repeal.
The Dems were nestled all in their safe places,
While visions of voters were thought to be racists.
And Clinton in her hiding, behind the backdrop,
Had just canceled her speech because of the shock.
When out on the lawn there arose such a sob,
It sprang from the Electoral College doing its job.
Away to protest a system that’s cursed,
Tore open the question, “What if the results were reversed?”
The gloom on the left for our new President,
Gave the luster they didn’t quite grasp what it meant.
When, what to my wondering eyes now made clear.
But a country grown tired of eight liberal years.
With a little old temper, so hostile and quick,
I knew in a moment it could not be St. Nick.
More rapid than Obama with his phone and his pen,
And he harassed, and blamed, and shouted at them!
On, Crazy Megyn! And, all the ones I’ve misled!
To ask for forgiveness! I would take the fall!
But I’ve done nothing wrong! Nothing at all!
As a mother that before a wild rally does try,
When she meets with her baby, to soothe its loud cry.
So up on the podium Trump’s mixed messages flew,
And then, in a barrage, I read quite a host,
The wailing and whining of each Facebook post.
As I drew in the past, and Obama’s executive flurry,
Obsessed with climate change, from the floor of the Senate,
A bundle of free speech they flung out the door,
The left – bless their hearts! How forgetful – how scary!
The delegates Cruz held in anticipation,
With an electric vibe he spoke to the nation.
He had a broad reach with a disappointing effect,
Kaine was chatty and glib, so much with a vengeance,
And Pence sighed when he couldn’t finish a sentence!
A grill of the unions, wishing a fifty-point spread,
Some spoke of two candidates, a binary choice,
And filled all our doubts with a justified voice.
And laying our principles aside for our foes,
And casting a vote, while holding our nose!
Trump sprang to his Office, a job Bannon he gave,
And away we all flew with a red flag to wave.
But I heard he did tweet, at three in the morning,
“Happy New Year to all, and to all a good warning!”
Credit to Clement C. Moore for his classic and cherished poem,
“’Twas the Night Before Christmas.”