‘Twas the night before Christmas, throughout the realm,
It seemed there was no one, in charge at the helm.
The stockings were hung, the tree was alight,
While all of DC, seemed unaware of our plight.

The children were nestled, in bed for the night,
While the politicians settled in, to keep up the fight
The population be damned, was the rallying cry,
It’s more important to us, that we bleed ‘em all dry!

And ma in her ‘kerchief, she thought it was strange,
That I just kept waiting, for some “hope” some “change.”
And I in my cap, I had just settled down,
To greet the New Year with a bit of a frown.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
“It’s those Mid-term elections,” I thought with a grin,
“Finally some change, as promised with that win!”
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.
“Fiscal reform,” would appear as assured,
But of course once again, they didn’t keep their word.

Now what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, eight tiny reindeer.
I thought to myself, “Could it just be the Elves?”
“I hope it’s not Congress, with Bailout Number Twelve!”

But there’s a little old driver, so lively quick,
I knew in a moment it must be a trick.
Nothing in Washington, moves at that pace,
Even when our credit rating, they’re about to erase!

Now come all of Congress! Come print lots more cash!
And add it to the trillions, already in the trash.
Now dash away Congress! Dash away all!
And leave it for the taxpayers, to come take the fall.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing pawing of each little hoof.
It’s the Super Committee!  Now that’s what we need!
A group of the best, above all the greed!

Their eyes – how they twinkle! Their dimples – how merry!
They’ll solve this dilemma, no need to be wary!
No infantile bickering, no childish rants,
No hidden agendas, no partisan slants.

A wink of their eyes a twist of each head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
They’ll talk they’ll haggle, they’ll cut out the waste
They’ll trim all the fat, they’ll do it with haste!

But that didn’t work, I guess I was naïve
They quickly gave up, decided to leave.
And laying their fingers aside of their nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney they rose!

And so here we are, just you just me
To fend for ourselves, once again don’t you see.
Congress has left us, they’re back in their sleigh,
They’re back in their s boxes, back to their play.

So let’s pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off
And show them again that we don’t need their trough.
We’ll do it without ‘em, through effort drive,
We’ll turn this around, we’ll survive – no, we’ll thrive!

So as the politicians all leave us, crawl off in the night,
As they slither away, afraid of what’s right,
Let them hear us exclaim, when the New Year’s in sight,
“Merry Christmas to all, we’ll all be all right!”

   

 
Paul Bianchina can be reached at paul2887@ykwc.net for comments.