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T’was The Night Before Christmas by Justin Trudeau

  
santa

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
T’was the night before Christmas and all through the dwelling
No Liberals were buying what Stephen Harper was selling.
Pantyhose and stockings hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes government handouts soon would be there.
 
Our young Liberals were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of free tuition danced in their heads.
Ma femme in Dior scarf, and I in fur cap,
had just settled down for a long winter’s nap.
 
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I ran in a rush
Only pausing at the mirror to give my hair a little fuss.
 
The moon on the crest of the new-fallen snow
Like my perfect complexion did  give off a glow,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a hybrid little sled pulled by eight bilingual reindeer.
 
A  driver in Birkenstocks, moving slowly – not quick,
And I knew in a moment it was NDP-Nick.
Faster than broken  promises, his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
 
“Now Dasher! Now Libby!
Now, Prancer and Jason!
On, Chretien! On, Broadbent!
On, Donner and Mason!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Screw the CPC– screw ‘em all!
 
Like a Sea King helipcopter the odd time it can fly,
Like green house gases floating right up to the sky
up to the roof  the French reindeer flew,
with a sleigh of toys from China  and NDP-Nick too.
 
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of each tiny hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the flue NDP-Nick,  crashed in a mound.
 
He was dressed in faux fur, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
CSA approved toys in a sack on his back,
but it was a jug of Screech he pulled from his pack.
 
He took a slug from the bottle making his dimples quite merry!
His cheeks glowed like roses, his nose like Don Cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.
 
He limped and moaned and gritted his teeth,
And he stumbled and knocked down our festival wreath.
He picked himself up and took another hit from the jug
and promptly proceeded to throw up on the rug.
 
He was overweight, drunk – not really himself,
and I sympathized at his schedule in spite of myself.
A pain in his neck had twisted his head
I thought he should be on workman’s compensation instead.
 
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled all the stockings, then turned with a smirk.
 “I need another raise and more benefits I suppose”
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
 
He staggered to his sleigh, to his team gave a shout,
And away they all flew like on a Bev Oda night out.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
 
Merry Christmas to all, eh! And to all a good night!”
 
 
It appears that we have once again resolved the conflict that was preventing comments from being posted so please feel free to share your thoughts whether you agree or disagree with the opinion stated in this post.
 
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© 2012 Maggie’s Bear
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    It was fun to write.

  • http://abearsrant.com thebear

    Thank you for the kind comment and for taking the time to read the blog. I appreciate both.

  • http://abearsrant.com thebear

    Thank you

  • http://abearsrant.com thebear

    Fame was never an objective. I write to clarify my own thoughts and I share what I write with those who wish to read it in the off chance it might promote discussion and new ideas.

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