Lisa Fabrizio
A visit from St. Hillary
Lisa Fabrizio
With sincerest apologies to Clement Clark Moore
'Twas the night before Christmas, in 2004,
Not a liberal was stirring, not even Al Gore;
Their prospects were dismal, they pined in despair,
And hoped that St. Hillary soon would appear.
The Democrats waited, subdued by their meds,
While visions of pork barrels danced in their heads.
With election-year worries and woes off my chest,
I’d just settled down for a long four-year rest.
When out on the Beltway arose such a clatter,
I headed for Fox News to check out the chatter;
I reached for my clicker with partisan glee,
But only to gape at a blacked-out TV.
The moon through the window cast light all about
And showed me quite clearly the plug had come out;
Then what did I see on the former dark screen
But the visage of DNC chair Howard Dean.
His voice was soon topped by one louder and shrill,
I winced when I realized it must be St. Hill.
More rapid than eagles her myrmidons came,
When she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, DASCHLE! Now, DORGAN! Now, ELIOT SPITZER!
On, RATHER! On, JENNINGS! On, WOODRUFF and BLITZER!
To the Sunday news shows! To the National mall!
Now bash away! Bash away! Bash away all!"
As big bucks before dirty congressmen fly
When they meet with flush lobbyists, eager to buy;
So out to the hustings the liberals they flew,
With a slate full of programs for states colored blue.
And then, in a twinkling, I saw on TV,
As stunning a change as you’re likely to see;
As I reached for the mute key to shut off the sound,
Through my Sony, St. Hillary came with a bound.
She was dressed all in white from her head to her toe,
All except for a pink blouse that set her aglow;
An American flag pin she wore with great pride,
And she looked to my eyes like a blushing new bride.
Her eyes — how they sparkled! Her cheeks were so rosy!
Her little pug nose was turned up like a posy;
Her sweet smiling lips bore no hint of complaint
And her overall bearing was one of restraint.
An old worn-out bible she clutched in her hand
And declared that upon it our nation should stand;
“Straight marriage is sacred, reflecting God’s will,
One man for one woman just like me and Bill.”
She was kindly and sweet, a right jolly old soul,
And she spoke with the drawl of Elizabeth Dole.
A wink of her eye and a gesture of cheer,
Soon gave me a feeling of absolute fear;
She spoke of the heartland with tears in her eyes,
And grand fruited plains and of God’s spacious skies.
When praising Rush Limbaugh and Tammy Wynette,
She caused me to wake from my sleep in a sweat.
My screen was now dark but I was not alone,
St. Hill had a message that chilled to the bone;
With a voice that resembled sharp nails on a slate
She exclaimed, “HAPPY CHRISTMAS! At least till ‘08."
© Lisa Fabrizio
By
With sincerest apologies to Clement Clark Moore
'Twas the night before Christmas, in 2004,
Not a liberal was stirring, not even Al Gore;
Their prospects were dismal, they pined in despair,
And hoped that St. Hillary soon would appear.
The Democrats waited, subdued by their meds,
While visions of pork barrels danced in their heads.
With election-year worries and woes off my chest,
I’d just settled down for a long four-year rest.
When out on the Beltway arose such a clatter,
I headed for Fox News to check out the chatter;
I reached for my clicker with partisan glee,
But only to gape at a blacked-out TV.
The moon through the window cast light all about
And showed me quite clearly the plug had come out;
Then what did I see on the former dark screen
But the visage of DNC chair Howard Dean.
His voice was soon topped by one louder and shrill,
I winced when I realized it must be St. Hill.
More rapid than eagles her myrmidons came,
When she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, DASCHLE! Now, DORGAN! Now, ELIOT SPITZER!
On, RATHER! On, JENNINGS! On, WOODRUFF and BLITZER!
To the Sunday news shows! To the National mall!
Now bash away! Bash away! Bash away all!"
As big bucks before dirty congressmen fly
When they meet with flush lobbyists, eager to buy;
So out to the hustings the liberals they flew,
With a slate full of programs for states colored blue.
And then, in a twinkling, I saw on TV,
As stunning a change as you’re likely to see;
As I reached for the mute key to shut off the sound,
Through my Sony, St. Hillary came with a bound.
She was dressed all in white from her head to her toe,
All except for a pink blouse that set her aglow;
An American flag pin she wore with great pride,
And she looked to my eyes like a blushing new bride.
Her eyes — how they sparkled! Her cheeks were so rosy!
Her little pug nose was turned up like a posy;
Her sweet smiling lips bore no hint of complaint
And her overall bearing was one of restraint.
An old worn-out bible she clutched in her hand
And declared that upon it our nation should stand;
“Straight marriage is sacred, reflecting God’s will,
One man for one woman just like me and Bill.”
She was kindly and sweet, a right jolly old soul,
And she spoke with the drawl of Elizabeth Dole.
A wink of her eye and a gesture of cheer,
Soon gave me a feeling of absolute fear;
She spoke of the heartland with tears in her eyes,
And grand fruited plains and of God’s spacious skies.
When praising Rush Limbaugh and Tammy Wynette,
She caused me to wake from my sleep in a sweat.
My screen was now dark but I was not alone,
St. Hill had a message that chilled to the bone;
With a voice that resembled sharp nails on a slate
She exclaimed, “HAPPY CHRISTMAS! At least till ‘08."
© Lisa Fabrizio
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