Twas the night before Christmas, and all was quite tense,
Not a creature was stirring, not even Mike Pence;
The ballots were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that a recount soon would be there;
Don’s children were falling asleep in their beds;
While visions of “Four More Years” danced in their heads;
Now Rudy was sweating, and Don was irate,
The chance for an upset had passed one more date.
Then out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
They threw open the sash to see what was the matter.
The protesters stood on the new-fallen snow,
Shouting “Donald, it’s time, we insist that you go!”
When what to his wandering eyes did appear,
But a Democrat’s sleigh and eight liberal reindeer,
And a little old driver who seemed all aglow,
That Don knew in a moment this must be St. Joe.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And they whistled and shouted and called him by name:
“Now Donald! You’re done for, quit scheming away,
For all you’ve destroyed, it’s time that you pay.”
And they carried him off from that famous White House,
And nobody stirred, not even a mouse.