Canonical List of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas Variations
Version 2007.1
Part 34 of 50
January 7, 2007

Compiled by: Matthew Monroe

Archived at:

Contains 849 versions of the classic poem, including headers from most of the posts and credits when available. The versions range from innocent and cute to vulgar and obscene, so read at your own discretion. I have collected most of these versions by searching the newsgroups using Google Groups and the now retired Deja News. I'd be happy to receive any additional versions you might have.

See the Main Index for the complete contents.


Short Title: Politics2000

Subject: Twas The Night After The Election!
Date: 12/07/2000 
Author: Wayne Calvert  

Twas The Night After The Election!
By: Marla Calvert
Twas the month after the election, no President we had.
They've been way too busy looking for chad.
The ballots have been counted and counted again,
With the hopes that Al Gore surely would win.
The lawyers were filing their briefs every day
And it all got quite boring, too boring, I say.
George at his ranch and Al in DC
Were calling their friends on the phone, don't you see.
It's pregnant, it's dimpled, it's hanging, --the chad.
There's lots more votes out there, just waiting to be had.
When out of the court there came such a ruling,
No more counting Al Gore, and we're not fooling.
The judge said  no, no, no, no, NO!  It's all over you see,
Stop whining Al Gore, go home, let us be.
The country is tired. The country is split.
Christmas is coming, and we must not miss it.
What will Al do? Will he concede?
Will he be gracious? Or will he be mean?
Whatever Al does, Whatever Al says,
In 2004, it's Al Gore for "Prez".
We thought it was finished. We thought is was done,
Even the media, thought George Bush had won.
But poor Al kept fighting, and whining, and moaning,
Over Seminole County's absentee voting!
The statisticians and lawyers had so much to say.
It could make your head spin if you watched them at play.
They love all this fussing with numbers and such,
But for most of us it's oh much too much.
"The will of the people", "Every vote counts"
are words we keep hearing from the candidate's mouth.
It's true they're important in every way,
But we can't go on bickering day after day.
The legislature said if this thing is not done,
By December 12th, we'll tell you who's won.
So Al and George take heed of these words,
Everyone thinks you're both just ABSURD!


Short Title: Politics2000Voting1

Subject: The Night Before Voting 
Date: 11/07/2000 
Author: Kirk  

The Night Before Voting
'Twas the night before voting, and for far and near;
not a creature was stirring, I was drinking a beer.
The cap keys were locked down on the keyboard with care;
In hopes that atpi flamewars soon would be there.
The voters were nustled all snug in their beds;
While visions of presidents danced in their heads.
And I in my thong, and Haele in her leather;
Had just settled down for a long night of pleasure.
When out on the lawn there arose such a bang;
I leapt from the bed to see if it was a gang.
Away to the window I flew like a robin,
And punched a hole in the glass with my member a'throbbin.
(Ouch!  Dammit!  Medic!)
The security lamps' shine on crack whores below;
Gave those poor women the illusion of a nice healthy glow.
When what to my wandering eyes should be there;
A voting booth appearing straight out of thin air.
With a sad-eyed occupant, as charismatic as a potater'
I knew in a moment, it was "Corvair" Ralph Nader.
More rapid than poll-takers his coursers they came;
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.
"On Hart, on Mondale, on Dole, and the rest;
We weren't voted in because we weren't liked the best!
"To the top of the White House, to the top of the Hill;
Let's pee on the head of that President Bill.
"For if there's one thing I dislike, more than rear-engined cars; 
It's a two-termer president who's liked by the stars!"
Even though I felt my newfound curiosity itching;
I turned away from the window -- my member needed stitching.
I turned and said to the leather-clad Haele;
(I still had my faculties, though blood-loss made me pale.)
"Let's stay in, and not vote this year;
We've got plenty of soft tacos, and plenty of beer.
"I'm not a Bush supporter, you're not a Gore Whore;
Let's just sit this one out, and wait for two-thousand and four." 
Merry Election Day, everybody!


Short Title: Politics2000Voting2

From: DrXTz (
Subject: Twas the week before Christmas 
Newsgroups: talk.politics.libertarian
Date: 2000-11-17 09:46:44 PST 

'Twas the week Before Christmas, when all through nation,
Not a Democrat was sleeping, nor even on vacation.
The ballots had been poked, and manually counted with care,
But no way could Gore win, and have it look fair.

The Republicans were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of tax cuts danced in their heads.
And Tipper in her blue jeans, and Al in his thong,
Had just settled down after a hit from their bong.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Al sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.
Away from the window he rolled with a crash,
Screaming for the secret service, and hiding his stash.

The moon on the breast of a newly hired Monica
Gave the luster of a cigar, or maybe a harmonica.
When what to his wandering eyes should appear such a spector,
But a miniature machine, pulled by more than one elector.

With a driver like Buddha, but oily and scaley,
He knew in a moment it must be the ghost of Dick Daley.
More rapid than weasels his electors they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

Now Florida! Now New Mexico! Now, California and Wisconsin!
On, New York, on Pennsylvania! On, Iowa and Oregon!
To the top of the electoral college, bring it down to the pit!
Now cheat away, cheat away, until a free election ain't worth spit!

As dry chads that before a Floridian's hangnail will fall,
When they met with any honor, for cash they would call.
So up to the college top the electors they flew,
With a sleigh full of taxpayer dollars, and Dick Daley, too.

He was dressed in a business suit, I think it was gray,
And his hands were still tarnished from 1960 till this day.
A bundle of dirty tricks he had slung on his back,
And he looked just like Stalin, or any other party hack.

His eyes  -- how they squinted!  His wrinkles how scary!
His cheeks were like oatmeal, his demeanor contrary!
His droll little mouth gaped like two scars,
And the number of his chins outnumbered the stars.

The stump of nightstick he held tight in his hand,
And a mist of tear gas swirled round him as he panned.
He had thick black glasses and a big fat gut,
That shook when he leered, as if he was reading some smut.

He was crooked and mean, a real old party boss,
That Al laughed when he saw him, despite his sure loss.
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
Soon gave Al to know he had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
Filling the bank accounts of each electoral jerk.
And using his middle finger, flipping the constitution the bird,
He dug up his nose, and pulled out 270 votes like a curd.

He sprang to his machine, to his hacks gave a bark,
And stole away the election as he flew into the dark.
But the American people heard him exclaim as hurried to go,
Now down south, to put the PRI back in power down in Mexico!


Short Title: Politics2001Commentary

From: Dr Fuji Kamikase (drfujikamikaze@aol.comnocrap)
Subject: On Daschle, On Gephardt, Condit And Stupid 
Newsgroups: alt.politics.bush
Date: 2001-12-24 08:28:39 PST 
On Daschle, On Gephardt, Condit And Stupid
By: Ted Lang

Twas the session before recess, and all through the Senate,
No bi-partisanship did progress, not even for a minute!
Tom Daschle in traditional, soft emanating voice,
Allowed no discussion suppressing matters of choice!

The People were all waiting snug in their belief,
That soon there would be some economic relief;
For dependence on government to do what is right,
Brings with it reality, which is really a fright!

And away in Afghanistan, with all the noise and clatter,
Few at home are focused on things that matter.
While visions of bi-partisanship, have been all the chatter,
The stimulus package is to make fat cats fatter!

A package may be wrapped with compassion and care,
But needs timely coordination to finally get there.
And the joys of the intended should always reign,
Lest such efforts only deliver more pain.

Justice is best served when judges are appointed,
But fails when obstructed by the self-anointed.
In a House gathered, and purposefully divided,
Gestures of cooperation have fully subsided.

Where duty and honor should surely abound,
Words not action nor integrity are found!
Absent so strangely a young woman and smile,
In the palaces of babble so evil and vile!

Moving together and getting along,
Had always been offered as the title song.
Bi-partisanship is required to serve the majority of one,
But partisanship is really what it is when done.

So on Daschle, Gephardt, Condit and Stupid!
Moving along we'll advance behavior so putrid!
And to all to whom such closing evokes fear,

Ted Lang is a staff columnist for the The Patriotist and is a
regular columnist for Ether Zone.
Ted Lang can be reached at:
Published in the December 31, 2001 issue of Ether Zone.
Copyright © 1997 - 2001 Ether Zone.


Short Title: Politics2001Recession

From: Name withheld by request (
Subject: Twas the night before Christmas, 
Newsgroups: houston.general
Date: 2001-12-24 16:53:05 PST 
By H. Bruce Miller, (

Twas the night before Christmas. Things looked pretty bleak.
My boss had just sent me a pink slip last week.
Mom was working at Sprawl-Mart to earn a few pennies
Without any vacation, fringes or bennies.

The market was sagging, and my 401(k)
Was as flat as a beer that's been open all day.
In quiet desperation, I crept into bed,
Where visions of bankruptcy danced in my head.

I had just fallen into an uneasy doze
When up on the housetop, a clatter arose.
Out of my bed I drowsily tumbled,
And scratching my head, to the parlor I stumbled.

As I rubbed my eyes sleepily, gazing around,
Down the chimney Tom Daschle came with a bound!
He was sprightly and small, a real cute little elf,
And he carried a sack twice the size of himself.

He spoke not a word, but just set down the sack
And opened it up. I was taken aback!
The most glorious whiz-bang that ever I'd seen!
It was golden and purple and crimson and green!

It sparkled and twinkled! It gleamed and it glittered!
It buzzed and it whistled! It honked and it twittered!
It had buttons and switches and a great big brass bell.
Turning to Daschle, I said, What the hell??

It's a stimulus package! he exclaimed with a grin.
To get the economy perking again!
You've worked very hard and youve been a good boy,
So I brought you this present! Enjoy it! Enjoy!

And giving a wink and a nod and a whistle,
He flew up the chimney like a human cruise missile.
As I stood there a-quiver and bursting with glee
Another wee elf crept from under the tree!

His eyes were so beady, his smile so smirky,
His nose was so pointy, his speech was so quirky,
I knew him in an instant, without even a thought.
Saint Dubya! I cried. Look what Tom Daschle brought!

Good gracious! said Dubya, Oh brother! Oh boy!
Such presents are not for the hoi and polloi!
They're for billionaires, zillionaires, big corporations
the truly deserving in our mighty nation!

And with no more ado, he snatched the gift back,
And stuffed it inside of his huge bulging sack.
Saint Dubya! I moaned. You can't leave us this way,
With no stimulus package for our Christmas Day!

Of course, said Saint Dubya, you get something too.
Here's a stimulus package designed just for you.
And reaching deep into his fat bulging bag,
He pulled out an object that looked like a rag

And handed it to me. It was an old sock,
With a thing in the toe that felt like a rock.
Heres a nice Christmas stocking, with a fine lump of coal,
Saint Dubya said, grinning. Now I've gotta roll.

Lots of houses to visit, lots of people to see!
And he dashed out the door (after snatching our tree).
But I heard him exclaim from his pickup truck:
Happy Stimulus to some, and to others good luck!


Short Title: Politics2002Commentary

From: Bo Raxo (
Subject: Twas the week before Christmas... 
Newsgroups: alt.true-crime
Date: 2002-12-17 09:24:48 PST 
Twas the week before Christmas,
Or Kwaanza, whatever.
And I was stuck home,
In real nasty weather

The corpses were stacked,
By the chimney with care.
Cremating bodies,
can be such a bear!

Jose Padilla,
Sat in a brig.
Most of the country,
don't give a fig.

Ashcroft used fear,
of terrorist deeds.
To curtail freedoms,
hard won indeed.

Like frightening children,
of things in the night.
Can you hear the laughter,
from the far right?

Nemo and Bo,
denounced freedom's theft.
But post nine eleven,
most ignore the left.

"Habeas corpus?
That's got to go.
No detainee rights,
In Guantanamo!"

As dubyah fiddled,
jobs went to hell.
Like deregulated,
Neil Bush "S & L's".

In the Middle East,
Arose such a clatter.
Hans Blix took a look,
what was the matter?

Did Saddam have weapons?
Was it a ruse?
Or did we want oil,
and it's an excuse?

The Soviets gone,
Khaddafy laid low.
Dubyah cried out,
"I need a new foe!"

Osama escaped,
Bush needed a win.
Would killing Iraqis,
be such a sin?

Korea shipped missles,
seized with a thud.
But its not illegal,
to purchase a Scud.

The buyers, that's Yemen,
are U.S. allies.
But soon they'll be breaking,
those long-standing ties.

The Saudis are nervous,
Might be overthrown.
If the war on terror,
gets overblown.

Pitting all Muslims,
against the U.S.
Is just what Osama,
would like the best.

So as you snuggle,
round your yule log.
Go rent a movie,
Like, say, "Wag the Dog"

Peace on earth,
good will to all men (and women, and children, and animals too)

Bo Raxo


Short Title: Politics2002RepublicanCriticism1

From: Zepp, No Weasels in the Bush (
Subject: #The Night Before Christmas 2002 
Newsgroups: alt.society.liberalism, talk.politics.misc,
Date: 2002-12-23 17:35:17 PST 
The Night Before Christmas 2002
 By Doug Fuller

 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the land,
 not a critic was stirring, for stirring was banned.
 A thousand brown prisoners, snug in their cells,
 all held without charges or tinsel or bells;
 And mamma was wrapped in the national flag,
 while we sang "Where there's never a boast or a brag."
 When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
 I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
 Away to the TV I flew like a flash;
 I then watched "Survivor" and reruns of "Mash."
 The fireworks, exploding above the new snow,
 gave a luster of objects to people below.
 When what saw my wondering eyes in the flashes:
 a miniature George Bush and eight tiny fascists!
 Their jerseys were blue and said "WORLD DOMINATION";
 I knew right away this was not just claymation.
 More rapid than eagles the warlords they came,
 as the little Bush whistled and called them by name:
 "Now, Daschle! now, Ashcroft!  Now Strom, don't relent!
 On, Poindexter,  Rumsfeld! on Henry and Trent!
 To the top of the globe, while the crowd's at the mall,
 now bomb away, bomb away, bomb away all!"
 His sack had a war game for each girl and boy;
 his pocket, four billion from just Illinois.
 Far up on his high seat the driver did mount,
 with more massive weapons than Kofi could count.
 And then, I heard sounds from away off somewhere,
 the booming of bombs that were bursting in air.
 As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
 down the chimney old Dick Cheney came with a bound.
 He said not a word, nor disclosed his location;
 he wiretapped my house in the name of the nation.
 Then holding the strings of his little Bush puppet,
 he went to the chimney and quickly rose up it.
 The sleigh was still running, but Dick didn't hurry;
 gas guzzlers, it seemed, were no longer a worry.
 He popped the champagne and exclaimed as he served it,
 "The world is now ours, and GOD DAMN, we deserve it!"


Short Title: Politics2002RepublicanCriticism2

From: James Simpson (
Subject: 'Twas A Fright At The White House - A Christmas Poem 
Newsgroups: alt.politics.bush, alt.politics.usa, talk.politics.misc, alt.politics, alt.politics.democrats.d, alt.politics.liberalism
Date: 2002-12-24 09:05:04 PST 

'Twas the night before Christmas,
And all through the White House,
New ideas were aborning
Like ticks on a mouse.

Rich folks' taxes were shriveling,
Like grapes in the sun;
Civil liberties vanished
Until there were none.

Dubya was tucked in
For a night in the sack;
Next morning he'd get a
Fat check from a PAC.

Unemployment might run out,
But what did he care?
CEO's would snatch options
Out of thin air.

Halliburton would prosper,
Dick Cheney had said;
Visions of dividends
Danced in his head.

When what before George's eyes did arise
But a vision that made him distrust his eyes.
Before him were people in trouble, in need:
Aged, homeless, single moms, with children to feed.

"We don't need a tax break," they shouted in chorus
"We just need a White House that does something for us."
They pointed their fingers, they wailed in despair;
"Who are you?" said George W. "Why are you there?"

"We're the people," they answered. "It's your job to lead us."
"Care for people, find new jobs we can work at to feed us."
George was startled, he said: "Don't you know I'm compassionate?"
"But there's just so much wealth, and it's my job to ration it."

The folks in the vision all pointed their fingers
at George; in his mind, the image still lingers.
"Out with Dubya and Cheney", they chanted away;
"Down with Rove, Ari Fleisher, and of course, Tom DeLay.

Give us a Senate that has no Trent Lott.
This is democracy -- perhaps you forgot."
Bush awoke in a swelter; his forehead was feverish;
This wasn't his white-bread world, Beaver Cleaverish.

There were people out there that he had no idea of:
Poor and black, gay and female: not the class, all of we're of.
He sprung from his bed and began to take notes.
"Oh my God," thought the President, "They might have votes.

I hope it's not true; what else could be horrider?
They might even win the election in Florida."
And he worried away through the rest of the night
About power for the people, and to Bush a good fright.

"I was really taken aback and embarrassed by what happened in Florida. If we
were invited to go into a foreign country to monitor the election, and they
had similar election standards and procedures, we would refuse to
participate at all." - Jimmy Carter


Short Title: Politics2002SantaFired

From: Tseran, Prophet of Kibo (
Subject: Re: (~) 25 Ways we are Different this Christmas 
Newsgroups: alt.current-events.clinton.whitewater, alt.impeach.bush, alt.politics, alt.politics.bush, alt.politics.liberalism, alt.society.liberalism, talk.politics.misc
Date: 2002-12-08 09:46:08 PST 

Twas the Night Before Christmas, 2002 version

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
Everyone was nervous, including the mouse.
Some internet hoax had filled us with dread,
Saying a suburban terrorist would drop more planes on our head.

The kids were all hiding underneath their beds,
And grandpa was screaming, "They're coming those reds!"
With a gun in my hand and speed dial set,
I was prepared for all of what Bush had said.

When out in the street there arose such a clatter,
I was sure that soon nothing would matter,
Off my chair I rushed with a roar,
To kill some muslims like Dubya before.

The lights in the street had a red glare,
And at what I saw I could not help but stare.
For what to my surprise should appear,
But a bullet ridden sleigh and a fat man in fear.

His skin was all white and covered with sweat,
And in the red suit was a flak vest I bet.
He looked at me through my shotgun sights
And sighed "It's gonna be one of those nights"

"Put down your gun, I mean you no harm!"
And I believed him too and turned off the alarm.
"I'm just doing my job as I have every year,
Although this time it may be the last I fear."

He sighed as he looked up at me with dread,
"The bullets from the airforce killed my reindeer dead,
And the damage to the sleigh is bad now I see
After this flight Allstate will never insure me!"

"The fear that your president has spread,
Can only end with more children dead.
He calls them all terrorist swine,
And claims his mission is from the divine."

"Then off to Iraq he jumps with no warning,
And drops more bombs on them in the morning.
He scares me when he warns of attack,
Like somehow the twin towers can be brought back."

I saw that he was right and Dubya was all wrong,
We had been fighting the wrong enemy all along,
We should not fight those who hate us afar,
But against the fears we have in our heart.

He saw that I had figured it out with a smile,
And he had reinforced his sleigh all the while.
"Its back to Canada and the North pole for me,
Its not war that brings freedom, but peace now you see."

He rose from the ground and he heaved a great sigh,
And I couldn't help but notice a tear in his eye;
"I've tried," he declared, "to reverse my defeat,
But I fear that with Bush I've become obsolete."

He slumped down quite low and returned to his sleigh,
And these sad words he spoke as he went on his way;
"No longer will I do the job that's required;
If anyone asks, say,'Bush had me fired!'"


Short Title: Politics2002Welfare

From: Ron (
Subject: Another Christmas Carol 
Newsgroups: can.politics, us.politics
Date: 2002-12-11 10:43:53 PST


   The Night Before Christmas 2002 

'Twas the night before Christmas, and in the White House,
G Dubya was laughing, along with his spouse; 
Cause Muslims were hanging like ducks in a row.
"Won't daddy be proud of this wonderful show?"

The Bush kids were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of gas chambers danced in their heads;
And Barb in her 'kerchief and dad with his sneer
Had brought blow for Junior to snort with his beer

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
They sprang from their beds to see what was the matter
Away to the window they ran like a flash
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a crowd of the homeless, without blow or beer.

And a little old lady, with dirt in her hair;
They knew in a moment she was on welfare.
More rapid than eagles Secret Servicemen ran,
And threatened the homeless with time in the can.

"Now, sod off! Now, get lost! Now, piss off and shoo!
Begone scum! You're pond scum! You all smell like poo!
Get away from us now, or hands on the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

"But we just want our jobs, and to ask what's the deal.
Cause you cut off our welfare, do you know how we feel?
One million lose welfare on this Christmas year,
While Dubya pays bonus to those he holds dear"

And then, in a twinkling, they saw on the wall
A sniper with rifle take aim at them all
"Leave now you poor people, or you'll force us to shoot!"
"But we're dead broke in winter! To kill us is moot!"

They were dressed all in rags, their raiment in tatters;
"All we want is to tell you 'bout what really matters.
Do you see what you've done to the poor and the weak?
All of this so Dick Cheney can wet his fat beak?"

Their eyes burned with fire, their lips taut with grief;
"All we ask is for Dubya to give some relief
To the millions of jobless and homeless and weak
That he's put on the streets in the last hundred weeks"

Then out came G Dubya, all giggles and grins,
On his head was a crown fat as Richard Perle's chin.
"Now, now, you poor people, please don't be so mad,
I know times are tough, but this isn't so bad."

"It could be much worse", said King George with a smirk
"I have presents for you, so don't be such jerks."
"Just to show that you've got a Fuhrer who cares,"
"Each of you gets options to buy Enron shares!"

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And pulled out his cocaine for a bump, what a jerk!
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a snort, and a Dictator pose;

He left for the House, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"


Short Title: Politics2003BushCriticism

From: Bush Puppet Regime (
Subject: Twas the Night Before a Dubya Xmas 
Newsgroups: talk.politics
Date: 2003-12-24 16:12:01 PST 

T'was the night before Christmas and all through the country
All the people were jobless, broke and hungry.
Widows and orphans lay awake in their beds
Bush promised Bin Laden, but got Saddam for his daddy instead.

The soliders fought with honor and stood tall and proud
and Bush pretended to be one of them, as he spoke real loud.
He wore his flight suit and pretended to serve Turkey
but all the troops got were some lies and bull jerky.

When the dust settled, and the dead women and children were cleared
Bush promised us more, and Osama scratched his beard
Now our money's all spent on Iraq and we're again in Al Queda's sites
and the Republican oil will flow as the innocent still die.


Short Title: Politics2003BushSpaceSatire

From: Mark R. Whittington (
Subject: Dubya's Secret Plan for a Return to the Moon 
Date: 2003-12-22 08:53:03 PST 

From the Washington Times:

As is tradition at the annual holiday White House Basement Party, a
Christmas poem - penned this year by Greg Clugston of Salem Radio News - was
read to all assembled, including White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan.
The talented Mr. Clugston titled his verse: 

'Twas the Night Before Christmas - 2003 White House Press Basement Version

'Twas the night before Christmas and at the White House,
President Bush was asleep - quiet as a mouse.
With Barney and Spot at the foot of the bed,
Visions of prescription drug benefits danced in his head.

Tomorrow, in the morning, to Camp David he'd go
For Christmas with Laura and his parents in tow.
Having gotten a lid, the reporters laid low,
Expecting their holiday shift to go slow.

When out on the South Lawn there arose such a clatter,
Laura jumped up to see what was the matter.
And what to her bewildered eyes did she see?
Two shadowy figures attempting to flee.

The couple wore ball caps in the dark of the night,
Boarding a Gulfstream Five for a top-secret flight.
The plane flew at top speed with shades pulled down tight.
Even exterior lights were off - to keep out of sight.

When a "non-U.K." pilot spotted the presidential plane,
The control tower suggested he was going insane.
The president arrived at a remote military base.
So remote, in fact, it looked like outer space.

Travel poolers were incredulous, as they began to swoon,
Realizing that Bush had just flown to the moon!
Dressed all in white, Bush emerged with a jump.
Wearing a spaceflight suit, he was ready to stump.

"Now Kerry! Now Gephardt! Dean, Edwards, and Clark!
And the rest of you candidates who are a shot in the dark!
"My bold new campaign will keep you off-kilter.
I'll do it bypassing the national media 'filter.'"

It was a strategy all of the Democrats feared -
TV ads replaying Saddam's shaggy beard.
Bush hoisted a flag, planting it inside a crater.
He saluted and waved and said, "See ya later."

Hours later, Dubya arrived back home on the lawn.
Stepping off the Gulfstream he stifled a yawn.
He approached the stakeout with a twinkle in his eye,
Knowing the secret travel would boost poll numbers high.

And I heard him exclaim, while Cheney hunted and fished,
"Merry Christmas to all! 'Mission Accomplished.'"

Mark R. Whittington


Short Title: Politics2003HowardDean1

From:  (Thanks to Bill Jacobs for alerting me)
Date: 2003-12-19
Iowa Report: 'Twas a Month Before Caucus

'Twas a month before Caucus, when all through the state, 
Howard Dean was by all accounts doing just great.
The precincts were being organized with care, 
In hopes that Victory soon would be there.

Last year it looked like a DC battle,
Voters yawned hearing the same old prattle.
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear, 
The greatest grassroots movement in years.

The staff were rarely ever in their beds, 
But visions of Caucus Night danced in their heads.
With the big endorsement from Al in Dean's cap, 
They figured they could live on just a few naps.

Iowans for Dean were doing more than chatter, 
Taking the country back caused quite a clatter.
Away to the rallies they flew like a flash, 
While back on the blog they kept giving cash.

With a big crowd that stretched around the block, 
They knew in a moment it must be the Doc.
With a traveling party of backers he came, 
Good Iowa Democrats know them all by name.

Hey Myers! Hey Chiodo! Hey Sheila! Hey Margie!
There's Painters! And SEIU! And, yes AFSCME!
Though other camps might get kinda mean and attack, 
They just don't get it, People Power fights back!

Students and seniors alike to Iowa fly,
The logistics team hopes for no snow in the sky.
They've got doors to knock and numbers to call, 
We have no doubt our people will get to them all.

We really like being First in the Nation,
Really we do, no matter expectation.
Caucus for Change is now the constant refrain, 
Caucus for Change is now the constant refrain.

If you need anything just give us a whistle, 
Just a month left to dodge dreaded DM Reg thistles.
For the next month we'll never be out of sight, 
There's much to do for the party Caucus Night.

Posted by Clare Gannon at 01:13 PM (December 19, 2003)
on the Howard Dean Weblog


Short Title: Politics2003HowardDean2

Date: 2003-12-19

'Twas a month before caucus
And all through the blog
The trolls were a-stirring
Forming a big ugly clog

The Deanites were thrilled
By their candidate’s success
Which angered the trolls
And caused them much stress

psubob in his Deanwear
And Teri in Austin in her gear
Had just told the truth
Which caused the trolls great fear 

When onto the blog
There arose a great sight
Dean’s leading the nation!
We’re seeing the light!

Now Geppy, now Kerry!
now Braun and Clarkie!
On Whiney! on Denny!
On Edwards and Sharpie!

To the top of polls
Our man rose in a flash
Amassing support
And tons of cold cash

And then, in a twinkling
I heard in the world 
The sound of peace
With ev’ry heart unfurled

We now stand a chance
To reverse all the fear
That threatens to destroy
All we hold dear.

As he healed all the nation
Dean warmed at the sight.
And to all a good night.

Posted by: David in Seattle at December 19, 2003 01:20 PM
on the Howard Dean Weblog


Short Title: Politics2003HowardDean3

Date: 2003-12-19


Twas a week and a half before 2004
The year we've been waiting to show Bush the door
With a war in Iraq, and many jobs lost
Health care and tuition increasing in cost

The Dems need a hero, someone who will fight
Who never backs down when he knows something's right
Now one has emerged from a nine-person battle
Drawing crowds of ten thousand in New York and Seattle
And who has emerged as the Democrats voice?
Dr. Howard Dean – he's the Democrats choice

Standing up for our party, standing up against Bush
When the other Democrats were too scared to push
Concerned with their futures, they voted for war
"His numbers are sky-high, we won't win in '04."
And they voted for tax give-aways for the wealthy
And a Medicare plan that works fine if you're healthy.

They were weak and defeated and afraid of a fight
"If we can't be Bush, we can try for Bush-lite"
But the grassroots of the party grew by the hour
Then Dean came along and said "we have the power"

With passion and energy, we worked night and day
Proved the "asterisk" from early polls was now here to stay
With the power of people other candidates lack
We embarked on a mission for our country back

We wrote letters to thousands and walked door to door
And won the endorsement of President Gore
The results of our efforts stunned every reporter
As our momentum and money grew with each quarter
We did so well the pundits had to concede
"The little governor from Vermont is now in the lead!"

It's the holiday season and we're feeling quite merry
We're beating the pants off Clark and John Kerry!
The days of defeat and retreat are now gone
The grassroots has spoken, "Hey Bush, bring it on!"

Posted by: Anonymous at December 19, 2003 02:42 PM 
on the Howard Dean Weblog


Short Title: Politics2003TomRidge

Date: December 24, 2003
The Ridge Who Stole Christmas

Happy Holidays to You Fantastic Folks at BuzzFlash.  I wrote a little poem for the Holidays!
Tricia Taylor

The Ridge Who Stole Christmas

‘Twas the week before Christmas and all through the land,
The ports were all quiet, the guardshacks unmanned.
The children were duct-taped all snug in their beds,
While visions of paratroopers danced in their heads.

And pa in his flightsuit and I in flak vest,
Had just settled down to take a nice rest.
When up on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I jumped from my bed thinking "terrorist chatter."

I looked out my barred window and what did I see,
But good old Tom Ridge looking straight back at me.
He was solid and big with a head like a bull,
He held in his hand a grenade, pin to pull.

"Now just remain calm," he said with a grin,
When he started to smile, his lips got real thin.
"We’ve heard some bad chatter and we want to make sure,
Our homeland’s protected and our women stay pure."

With a wink and a nod and a chuck to my chin,
He swung through my window and let himself in.
With his FBI friends he poked here and sneaked there,
Making sure to take pictures and bottle stray hair.

When he was finished he gave me a frisk,
And a sly little pinch and a twist of my wrist.
Back up to the rooftop he nimbly swaggered,
And I heard him bark out as he quickly re-daggered.

"Now Georgie, now Condie, now Wolfie, now Libby,
On Colin, on Bremer, on Cheney, and Baker.
In the eyes of the world, through the fear of the masses,
Who cares if we’re starting to seem like big asses?

Who cares if their Christmas has become something crummy,
As long as the contracts keep flowing through Rummy?!"
And I heard him proclaim as he drove off his car,
Terror Christmas to all and to all Endless War.

Patricia Taylor
Christmas, 2003


Short Title: Politics2004WashingtonDC

From: Ilze Oredson
Date: 2004-11-11


The night before DC
By Amanda Lynch Morris, Freedom Chronicles
  An early Christmas gift from me, your humble editor, 
  to you the wise and benevolent reader...
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the House,
Not a Democrat was stirring, not even one grouse;
Their spending bills were stacked by the Speaker's big chair,
In hopes that Republicans would be unaware;

The Bushes and Cheneys were tucked in their beds
While Moore and Hollywood thundered curses on their heads;
And Condi in her 'kerchief and Rove in his cap
Had just settled down for a post-election nap,

When on the White House lawn there arose such a clatter
The secret service ran out to see what was the matter.
Away to the window W flew like a flash
Thinking, "I wonder if Kerry developed a rash."

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the luster of mid-day to people below.
Liberal blamers and haters on the lawn did appear
To be eating the remnants of Santa's reindeer.

"Christmas must go!" they shouted so quick
that the Secret Service arrested all with nary a nick.
Laura pleaded with W to come back to bed
But the President knew too much work was ahead.

"Now Don and now Dick, Now Condi and Colin,
On Leavitt! On Ridge! On Thompson and Paige!
To the floor of the Senate and the halls of the Hill,
We have the People's mandate, we cannot be still!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the Hill the Cabinet they flew
With "political capital" and indignant times two.

"We've listened to your rantings and left-leaning ways,
your four years of griping and now its our play!"
As W sighed with relief and turned around,
Down the chimney Hillary came with a bound.

She was dressed in faux fur to protect from the chill
And her voice rang out like a practiced shill,
"I'm glad that you won, I'm glad that you're back,
because now I win 08 with a hawkish shellac!"

W's eyes how they twinkled, his smile so merry
While Hillary licked her lips and intoned, "Too bad, Kerry."
W's droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow
While Hillary tapped her foot like an impatient shmo.

A blue "veto" pen he held tight in his hand,
While Hillary ripped up the gay marriage ban.
Just then Don, Condi and Tom broke into the room
And chased Hillary out with a "Left Over" broom.

W was lean and ready, a right jolly good Texan,
He laughed at the broom and said, "Good riddance, charlatan!"
A wink of his eye and twist of his head
Soon gave Americans to know we had nothing to dread.

W spoke not a word but went straight to his job,
Emptying the tax coffers, then turned with a nod,
"We're giving your money back, we don't "play ball,"
we hope to make permanent these tax breaks for all."

He sprang to Air Force One, to his team he whistled,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim before they drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"


Short Title: Politics2005SecurityState

From: Molto Vicenzo
Sent: Thursday, December 29, 2005 11:59 AM

       Night Before Xmas - Security State Version

'Twas the week before Christmas, Bush was planning on clubbing,
	when the paper of record gave Dubya a drubbing
For spying on voters who'd barely consented
	to another four years of this despot demented.

I blotted it out from my shopping cart brain;
	without a new Xbox I'd soon go insane!
My stocking was hung from a nail with abandon;
	I dreamt of Kris Kringle - but he looked like Alf Landon.

I must get my mind off political rogues!
	through shopping, more shopping for all that's in vogue.
The war against terror is kind of neurotic;
	but spending on gadgets is way patriotic.

On Walmart, on K-Mart! On Macy's and Klein's!
	I'd shopped till I dropped and was fully supine,
When who should appear but Alberto Gonzales
	with a microphone, spycam, and jar of green olives.

"I've been reading your e-mails," he said with a snicker;
	"You're a commie, a terrorist, rat, and nose-picker!"
"Alberto," I said, "you are really a bummer.
	I'm none of those things; why, I'm only a mummer!"

He proceeded to place me in handcuffs with glee,
	and impounded for testing my small Christmas tree.
I politely enquired on his mental condition,
	but he just mumbled something 'bout "reindeer rendition."

He carted me off to Guantanamo Bay,
	and that's where I spent nearly all Christmas day!
With nary a trinket, a prize, or a fishbone;
	they called me a turkey, and pulled on my wishbone!

My liberties civil were all but suspended,
	my holiday cheer was completely upended.
Then an old bearded man in a jolly red suit
	appeared out of nowhere - with a hacksaw to boot!

He freed me and gave me a box of cigars,
	then got back on his sledge and took off for the stars.
I thanked old St. Nick, and I bade him farewell.
	"St. Nick? Idiota! Can't you see I'm Fidel?"

Copyright 2005 Molto Vicenzo


Matthew Monroe in Richland, WA

Last Modified January 7, 2007