Trump’s Night Before Christmas - by Alan Skwarla
(Apologies to the estate of Clement Clarke Moore)
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Trump Tower,
Not a creature was stirring, except Kelly Anne Conway because she never sleeps. She’s like a shark. A good shark. A very good, insomniac shark. She’s the BEST shark because she eats reporters and interviewers for lunch, then she stays awake looking for more. Lemme tell ya, her appetite is YUGE.
The stockings were hung on the mantle below by my life-sized portrait with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas, or some other foreign dignitary bearing gifts, soon would be there.
Ivanka, Donald Jr., Eric, Tiffany, Barron, and Jared Kushner, who is like a son to me, believe me, were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of tax dodges, inflated dividends, and anticipatorily breached contracts danced in their heads.
And Melania in her ‘kerchief, and I in my toup.., err ah, cap,
Were just settling our brains for a long winter’s nap, but first I have to do some tweeting, mostly about SNL, terrible show by the way, not funny at all, and that rude and unfunny Alec Baldwin – a hack with no talent.
When out on the avenue there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed and ordered my butler and footman and dresser and hair stylist to see what was the matter.
Away to the window they flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the entourage of black, armored SUVs below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a stretch Zil limousine with tri-color Russian fender flags, and eight of my best cabinet picks, and Reince Priebus and Steve Bannon, who are great guys…the best guys, believe me, bringing up the rear.
With a sinister, shirtless driver, waving a gun ready for shootin’,
I knew in a moment it must be my newest and dearest and best friend, Vladimir Putin.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name, in broken English but hey, he’s tryin’ right?
"Now, Sessions! Now, Mattis! Now, McMahon and Carson!
On, Chao! On, Puzder! On, McMahon and Flynn!
To the top of the penthouse! 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 Tower-top the coursers they flew,
With the limo full of cabinet members, and Vlad Putin too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Kelly Anne came with a bound.
She was dressed all in fur, from her head to her cloven-hooved foot,
And her clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
She was a real mess, I wanna tell ya. I always considered her to be a 6, maybe a 7 on a good day. But now, she was in the negative numbers if ya know what I mean (wink!).
A bundle of shiny baubles and trinkets she had flung on her back,
And she looked like a peddler, just opening her pack.
She looked more like a chimneysweep if you ask me, but hey, whatever.
Her eyes, how they twinkled! Her dimples, how merry!
Her cheeks were like roses, her nose like a cherry!
Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of her chin was as white as the snow.
Yes, she has a little facial hair but she keeps after it pretty good so it doesn’t bug me too much.
She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying her finger aside of her nose,
And giving a nod, down the private elevator she goes!
She sprang to Vlad’s limo, and to his team she gave a whistle,
And away they all drove like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to my good and dear friend Trump and to all American Peoples, and to all a good-night!!!"
(Apologies to the estate of Clement Clarke Moore)
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Trump Tower,
Not a creature was stirring, except Kelly Anne Conway because she never sleeps. She’s like a shark. A good shark. A very good, insomniac shark. She’s the BEST shark because she eats reporters and interviewers for lunch, then she stays awake looking for more. Lemme tell ya, her appetite is YUGE.
The stockings were hung on the mantle below by my life-sized portrait with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas, or some other foreign dignitary bearing gifts, soon would be there.
Ivanka, Donald Jr., Eric, Tiffany, Barron, and Jared Kushner, who is like a son to me, believe me, were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of tax dodges, inflated dividends, and anticipatorily breached contracts danced in their heads.
And Melania in her ‘kerchief, and I in my toup.., err ah, cap,
Were just settling our brains for a long winter’s nap, but first I have to do some tweeting, mostly about SNL, terrible show by the way, not funny at all, and that rude and unfunny Alec Baldwin – a hack with no talent.
When out on the avenue there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed and ordered my butler and footman and dresser and hair stylist to see what was the matter.
Away to the window they flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the entourage of black, armored SUVs below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a stretch Zil limousine with tri-color Russian fender flags, and eight of my best cabinet picks, and Reince Priebus and Steve Bannon, who are great guys…the best guys, believe me, bringing up the rear.
With a sinister, shirtless driver, waving a gun ready for shootin’,
I knew in a moment it must be my newest and dearest and best friend, Vladimir Putin.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name, in broken English but hey, he’s tryin’ right?
"Now, Sessions! Now, Mattis! Now, McMahon and Carson!
On, Chao! On, Puzder! On, McMahon and Flynn!
To the top of the penthouse! 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 Tower-top the coursers they flew,
With the limo full of cabinet members, and Vlad Putin too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Kelly Anne came with a bound.
She was dressed all in fur, from her head to her cloven-hooved foot,
And her clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
She was a real mess, I wanna tell ya. I always considered her to be a 6, maybe a 7 on a good day. But now, she was in the negative numbers if ya know what I mean (wink!).
A bundle of shiny baubles and trinkets she had flung on her back,
And she looked like a peddler, just opening her pack.
She looked more like a chimneysweep if you ask me, but hey, whatever.
Her eyes, how they twinkled! Her dimples, how merry!
Her cheeks were like roses, her nose like a cherry!
Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of her chin was as white as the snow.
Yes, she has a little facial hair but she keeps after it pretty good so it doesn’t bug me too much.
She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying her finger aside of her nose,
And giving a nod, down the private elevator she goes!
She sprang to Vlad’s limo, and to his team she gave a whistle,
And away they all drove like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to my good and dear friend Trump and to all American Peoples
Bonus link:
Lady Bunny's ‘Twas the Night Before Trumpmas
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