T’was a week before Christmas and through the Senate and House, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The earmarks were hung by the chimney with care in hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there.
The senators were nestled all snug in their beds while visions of pork danced in their heads.
No budget was found, just mischief and debt, while the taxpayers hung their foreheads and wept.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter. Senators sprang from their oxygen. What was the matter?
Away to the window, they flew like a flash. Tore open the shutters when they heard the word cash.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave the luster of midday to objects below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear? But a 4,000 page omni with endless debt year after year. With a little old driver so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came. And he whistled and shouted and called them by name: Now, McConnell! Now, Schumer! Now, Pelosi and Vixen! On Biden! On Stupid! On Dumber and Blitzen!
To debt! To bankruptcy! To free money for all! Now dash away, dash away more cash for all!
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As the economy threatened to run aground, Down the chimney Saint Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot. And his clothes were all tarnished With ashes and soot.
His eyes how they twinkled, His dimples, how merry. His cheeks were like roses, His nose like a cherry.
This spending season, instead of naughty and nice, Santa brought everyone something regardless of price.
He was chubby and plump. A right, jolly old elf. And I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head. He said, not to worry, There’s always the Fed.
He spoke not a word and went straight to his work. Undeterred by the debt, he turned with a jerk.
For naughty Pentagon that lost billions last year. A fat stocking with extra cash and cheer.
And don’t forget a delicious candy cane, sweet. With forty billion dollars to tide over Ukraine.
Because of the climate, it’s not PC to leave coal. No one seems to care ‘Cause we’re trillions in the hole.
Don’t worry about leaving the budget a mess. Democrats have given you 87,000 agents of the IRS.
So Saint Nick laid his finger aside his nose and giving a nod up the chimney, he rose.
He sprang to hs sleigh, his economist agog, numbing the pain with a cup of eggnog.
Up and away though the country in tatters. Free stuff for all. Sky high prices don’t matter.