'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the House
Not a bill was debated, thanks to an orange souse;
The interns were stuffed in the offices with care,
In hopes that no journalists would make them share;
The lobbyists were counting their dough in their beds;
While visions of special bills danced in their heads;
And Michele with her corn dog, and King with his hate,
Had just muddled our brains, and sealed our fate,
When out on the steps there arose such a clatter,
John sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.
Away through the hallways he flew like a flash,
Threw open the doors and dropped some spare cash.
When what to John's booze-reddened eyes did appear,
But a beat-up old Chevy and a man with a tear,
And a little old lady who shivered with cold,
John wished to ignore her, and anyone old.
More vapid than Bill-O, John's colleagues they came,
And he mumbled, and cried, and called them by name:
"Now, Denham! now, Duncan! now Perry and Olson!
On, Cantor! on, Chaffetz! on, Duffy and Hudson!
To the floor of the House! to the gallery, too!
Don't let the poor and ill try to sway you!"
So up to the top of the Capitol they rose
While avoiding the poor folk who slowly froze.
"We Don't want to know," they cried as they went,
"If poor folk are starving or can't make rent."
As they drew in their heads, ignoring the sounds,
More needy surrounded the Capitol grounds.
They were dressed all in rags, from their head to their foot,
And their clothes were all coated with ashes and soot;
A bundle of sticks one slung on his back
For fire, as money for heating they lack.
Their eyes—they were sunken! their hair quite dirty
Their homes had been taken, it was not very pretty.
Their lips were drawn closed tight like a bow,
As they tried to shake off the cold and snow;
The sick folk had suffered and lost their good cheer,
That they need insurance was really quite clear.
The hungry had barely any food in their bellies;
Not even some ancient government cheese.
Yet John Boehner's colleagues were very well-fed,
And had warm homes and comfortable beds;
The closing of eyes and votes for no help,
Soon gave us to know they were all for themselves;
They spoke no good word, but went straight to their work,
And slashed all the programs; making each one a jerk,
And doing the bidding of Walton and Koch,
Put the whole Middle Class in a horrible yoke;
They vote for the money and care for the rich,
And call unemployed folks "you sonuvabitch."
But we vote next year to replace those on the right—
So, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”