By Chris Duel
‘Twas The Night Before Impeachment, when all through the House,
All the Congress was stirring, even Conyers, the louse.
The Articles were hung by the Capitol with care,
In hopes that Saint Bubba would be trapped in the lair.
The Republicans were nestled, all smug with The Feds,
While visions of perjury danced in their heads.
And Barr with his rhetoric and Hyde with his trap,
Had just settled in for a long evening’s nap.
When out in The Gulf, there arose such a clatter
They clicked on CNN to see what was the matter.
When what to their wondering eyes should appear
But Tomahawk cruise missiles flying like reindeer.
With a Presidential address, so lively and quick,
They knew in a moment, it must be Saint Slick!
More rapid than eagles, his supporters they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
“Now Conyers, now Gephardt, let’s forget about The Vixen!
On Barney! On Maxine! I’m no Richard Nixon!!!”
“From Capitol Hill to the Washington Mall,
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!!!”
And then the Republicans heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As they scratched their heads and were turning around
The resilient Saint Willie scored another rebound.
No longer was he eating from his humble pie,
While assaulting Saddam with his bombs from the sky.
A bundle of weapons he had flung at Iraq,
It looked once again like Slick Willie was back.
His eyes, how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the hair on his head was as white as the snow.
The stump of a stogie, he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump – a right jolly old elf,
And the Republicans wept, in spite of themselves.
And a wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave them to know they had something to dread.
He spoke the right words and went straight to his work
Hard to believe that an Intern once called him “The Jerk.”
And shaking his finger and thumbing his nose,
By “Wagging The Dog,” up the polls he rose.
He turned to his spinmeisters and gave them a whistle,
Then they cheered-on Slick Willie as he launched another missile.
They all heard him exclaim, with Impeachment out of sight,
“Happy Ramadan to all, and to all a good night.”