A Visit From Saint Hillary

Here's a treat from our Poet Laureate: Muldoon.

A Visit From Saint Hillary - Not a limerick

(Apologies to Clement Moore and also to that other dude Not Clement Moore who totally wrote the original)

'Twas Inaugural Eve, when all through the land
Not a creature was stirring, not woman nor man
The bunting was hung by the platform with care
In hopes that the President soon would be there

Adult babies were nestled all snug in their safe spots
While visions of peppermint lattes danced through their thoughts
And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my bare feet
Had just settled on the couch to write up some Tweets

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter
Away to the window I flew like a flash
Tore open the designer window treatments and threw up the sash

The moon on the crest of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of midday to objects below
When what should my wondering eyeballs now view
But a nondescript van with a medical crew

With a little old lady so wrinkled with sag
I knew in a moment she must be The Hag
More rapid than eagles her minions they came
And she cackled, and wheezed, and called them by name

"Now Weiner! McAuliffe! Podesta and Mills!
On Huma! Palmieri! On Chelsea and Bill!
To the top of the platform on the Washington Mall
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
So up to the Capitol her minions they flew
With the van full of medication, and Saint Hillary too

And then, in a twinkling, I heard a guffaw
The grasping and clinging of each grubby paw
As I drew in my head, set for taking my lumps
Down the stairway St. Hillary came with a thump

She was dressed in polyester, from her head to her foot
And her clothes were all draped like a baggy Mao suit
An enemies list she had stashed in her pants
And she looked like a homeless guy starting a rant

Her eyes-how they wandered! Gone wild with strabismus!
She kept sticking her nose into everyone's business
Her droll little mouth was drawn back in a sneer
And the chin whiskers bleached, until they were clear

A bottle of vodka was clutched in her fist
And the vapors encircled her head like a mist
She had a harsh laugh and a fake Southern drawl
She warn't no ways tahrred, in spite of it all

She was chubby and plump, a right nasty old elf
And I laughed when I saw her, in spite of myself
A three-hundred-sixty degree twist of her head
Soon gave me to know I had something to dread

She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work
Emptied everyone's stockings; called me "Deplorable jerk!"
Then mashing the throttle right down to the floor
Her Hoveround rose up the stairway once more

She lurched toward her van, her team gave her a boost
And away they all flew like the down of a goose
But they heard me exclaim, ere they drove out of sight-

"Happy Christmas to all! She's not President tonight!"

posted by CBD at 06:30 PM

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