‘Twas the night before Inauguration, when all thru the Senate

Not a creature was stirring, not even Mike Bennet.
The coffers were hung by Big Business with care,
In hopes that St. Donald Trump soon would be there.

The 1% were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of tax incentives danced in their heads.
And Mama in her stretch pants, and I in my MAGA cap,
Had each downed a 12-pack for a long winter's nap.

When out on liberal media there arose such a chatter,
I fell from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I lurched with a stumble,
Knocked over a floor lamp, and cursed with mumble.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Waxed nostalgic the cocaine that I used to blow.
When, what to my beer-tinted eyes should affix,
But a flying stretch limo, and eight white staff picks.

With a loud angry orange, so garish and plump,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Trump.
More greedy than Enron his henchmen they came,
And he bellowed, and bullied, and called them by name:

“Now! Mattis, now! McMahon, now! Sessions and Mnuchin!
“On! Tillerson, on! Bannon, on! Mike Pence and Putin!
“To the nation's south border! We will build the yuge wall!
“Now bash away! Trash away! Offend and appall!”

As dry heaves commence my mind wonders why
I thought it'd be safe to eat six-day-old Thai.
So up to the house-top the henchmen they landed,
With a limo full of girls St. Trump had glad-handed.

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The scratching and clawing of each cloven hoof.
As I threw up my lunch, and was flushing it down,
Down the chimney St. Donald Trump came with a bound.

He was dressed in a suit, from his head to his cankle,
And his clothes were all tailored to distort his body angle.
A bag of empty promises was flung on his back,
And he looked like a snake oil salesman addicted to smack.

His eyes — oh so beady! his tiny hands — how cute!
His cheeks were like clementines, his nose a button snoot!
His smug little mouth was drawn up like an anus,
And the look of contempt in his face that he gave us.

The clump of Ted Cruz's hair he held tight in his teeth,
And the hair piece it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a square face, and a concealed round belly
That shook when he laughed about attacking Megyn Kelly.

He was chubby, a grouch, and quite braggadocios,
And I laughed when I saw him but then he got ferocious.
A squint of his eye and a twist of his head
He asked all about my best friend Ahmed.

He spoke about Hillary, and how he'll put her in jail.
And named every Miss Universe he had claimed to nail.
And laying his finger aside of his nose
And snorting a substance, up the chimney he rose.

He sprung to his limo, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like his inevitably launched nuclear missile.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight:
SNL is unfunny this season. Viewership down. Baldwin is terrible. Sad!”

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