A Visit from the Donald
With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and in the White House,
Not a creature was whining, like Schumer, that louse,
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that the Donald soon would be there,
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of tax cuts danced in their heads;
Melania in her Hermes scarf, and Barron in his red cap,
Had just settled their brains for a two hour nap,
When on the South lawn there arose such a clatter,
We stopped in mid-tweet to see what was the matter.
Secret Service jumped up and were out like a flash,
With weapons all pointing, about to kick ass.
The search lights had melted the new-fallen snow,
And garishly lighted the objects below,
But what to my wondering eyes did I spy,
A sleigh, and a man in a MAGA hat, suit and red tie,
His chin was out-thrust, and his testicles large,
I knew in a moment he must be in charge.
More rapid than eagles his orders they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Conway! now Sanders! now Miller and Gourka!
On, Kelly! on Bolton, on Jared!, Ivanka!
To the top of the door in the new border wall!
Now tweet away! Tweet away! Tweet away all!”
So up to the housetop the staffers they flew
With a sleigh full of gifts, and the Donald too—
It was then that the media entered this mess,
The prancing and pawing slobs of the Press.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the East Room chimney he came with a bound.
He wore a red tie, from his neck to his foot,
Yet his clothes were not tarnished with ashes or soot;
A bundle of gifts he had flung on his back,
Like a Honduran migrant toting his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! His mullet so plush!
His cheeks were well tanned, but his eyes not so much!
His droll little mouth was drawn up in a scowl,
And the rude correspondents started to howl;
What’s in that bag? Jim Acosta beseeched,
If they’re emoluments, you’ll be impeached;
The Donald turns round and Acosta he views,
“I have gifts for the good kids, but not for fake news.”                  Acosta just sputtered, and his eyes gave a roll,
As his stocking was filled by the Donald with coal;
A wink of his eye had caused me to muse,
I had nothing to dread, cause I’m from Fox News;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
He filled all the stockings; then turned to the jerk,
He assured Jim Acosta that CNN blows,
Then nodding his head, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh in just a few bounds,
To Mar a Lago he flew, to play a few rounds;
But I heard him exclaim, speeding by in his luge,
“Happy Christmas to all, and it will be HUGE!”