T’was a week before Christmas
and through the Senate and House,
not a creature was stirring,
not even a mouse.
The earmarks were hung
by the chimney with care
in hopes that Saint Nicholas
soon would be there.
The senators were nestled
all snug in their beds
while visions of pork
danced in their heads.
No budget was found,
just mischief and debt,
while the taxpayers hung
their foreheads and wept.
When out on the lawn
there arose such a clatter.
Senators sprang from their oxygen.
What was the matter?
Away to the window,
they flew like a flash.
Tore open the shutters
when they heard the word cash.
The moon on the breast
of the new fallen snow
gave the luster of midday
to objects below.
When what to my wondering
eyes should appear?
But a 4,000 page omni
with endless debt year after year.
With a little old driver
so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment
it must be Saint Nick.
More rapid than eagles
his coursers they came.
And he whistled and shouted
and called them by name:
Now, McConnell! Now, Schumer!
Now, Pelosi and Vixen!
On Biden! On Stupid!
On Dumber and Blitzen!
To debt! To bankruptcy!
To free money for all!
Now dash away, dash away
more cash for all!
And then in a twinkling,
I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing
of each little hoof.
As the economy threatened
to run aground,
Down the chimney
Saint Nicholas 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.
His eyes how they twinkled,
His dimples, how merry.
His cheeks were like roses,
His nose like a cherry.
This spending season,
instead of naughty and nice,
Santa brought everyone something
regardless of price.
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.
He said, not to worry,
There’s always the Fed.
He spoke not a word
and went straight to his work.
Undeterred by the debt,
he turned with a jerk.
For naughty Pentagon
that lost billions last year.
A fat stocking with
extra cash and cheer.
And don’t forget a delicious
candy cane, sweet.
With forty billion dollars
to tide over Ukraine.
Because of the climate,
it’s not PC to leave coal.
No one seems to care
‘Cause we’re trillions in the hole.
Don’t worry about leaving
the budget a mess.
Democrats have given you
87,000 agents of the IRS.
So Saint Nick laid his finger
aside his nose
and giving a nod
up the chimney, he rose.
He sprang to hs sleigh,
his economist agog,
numbing the pain
with a cup of eggnog.
Up and away
though the country in tatters.
Free stuff for all.
Sky high prices don’t matter.
His last words as the wind
lifted his sleigh.
If people like money, just print.
It’s okay.
But I heard him exclaim
‘ere he drove out of sight.
‘Happy bankruptcy to all,
and to all, a good night!
