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|12-13-2019, 12:56 PM||#1|
Join Date: Nov 2010
'Twas the night before Impeachment,
When all through the House
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Louse.
The articles were hung, by the gavel with care
In hopes that some votes would be cast there.
The Democrats were nestled all snug in their heads;
While visions of victory danced in their heads;
And Nanzi with her dentures, and Nadler in his drool,
Had just settled their brains for a long winter's rule,
When out of the polls there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from their hubris to see what was the matter.
Away to Windows they flew like a flash,
Tore open the screen and booted up the stash.
The full weight on the breast of the new-fallen news,
Gave a lustre of midday to subjects who knew,
When what to their wondering eyes did appear,
But the IG Report and 17 little fears,
With a terse answer here so lively and quick,
They knew in a moment he must be a prick.
More rapid than eagles the defectors they came,
And they whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Schiff! now, Nadler! now Nanzi, you Vixen!
On, Comey! on, Stelter! on, Cooper and Blitzer!
To the top of the capitol! to the top of the hall!
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 House floor the Liars they flew
With articles full of ploys, and their reputations too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the news
The panic and polling of each little stooge.
As I scratched my head, and was turning around,
Down came the drool from Nadler with a bound.
He was dressed in those pants, buckled under armpits,
And his clothes were all rumpled from dribble and spit;
A bundle of papers he had flung in his sack,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes—were so hollow! his jowels, how dour!
His cheeks were so ashen, his pout so sour!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a sow,
And the spittle on his chin made him resemble a cow;
The stump of a tooth he held tight in his teeth,
And the stench, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a huge round belly
That shook when he mumbled, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right ugly old troll,
And I laughed when I saw him, get up and then roll;
A blink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know he was very near dead;
He spoke no sense, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the articles; then turned with a jerk,
And sticking his finger inside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the nostril it rose;
He lollygogged to his team and gave a gavel,
And away they all flew like a motley rabble.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he hobbled out of sight—
“Tomorrow we vote just out of spite!”.
|12-13-2019, 10:42 PM||#2|
Join Date: May 2013
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