|
I'm not sure why my earlier posting of this failed so miserably. So, I'm trying a more accurate headline on this original parody.
Twas the night before healthcare reform
(Is that better?)
'Twas the night before voting, when all through the House;
Representatives sought cash for their children and spouse.
The health-plan was read for the twenty-fourth time;
In hopes that Insurers wouldn't pay out one dime.
The senators huddled like rats in the hall;
While a rodent named Lieberman made health-care stall.
As Obama with his mischief, denied all he'd said;
Then sent thirty thousand troops, that soon would be dead.
When on the Whitehouse lawn there arose stupid signs;
Of a Tea-Party group with heads up their behinds.
And then on the TV I saw a bright cloud:
Iran had nuked Israel, for crying out loud.
Then some turbaned fool took credit and blame;
I'd seen him before but forgotten his name.
When, what to my wondering nose did I smell;
But a flying camel caravan, straight out of hell.
With a little old driver, so camel-dung sodden;
I knew in a moment it must be Bin Laden.
Chased by hornets, strike-eagles and an f-4 corsair;
He called well-known names like he just didn't care.
"Now, Daschle, Nancy and Barrack are like Nixon;
On, Iraq and Afghanistan their brains are a 'missin!
To their rag- top Porche and their Mercedes Benz!
They were well-bribed on a war, we just couldn't win
As nukes in Israel flew from that nation;
Straight to Iran, in retaliation,
They blew off house-tops with corsairs they flew,
But an ICBM blew up Bin Laden too.
And then, Fox news cut to some Mid-East newsman;
Who said it was time to nuke Pakistan.
As I drew in my head, while it was still there:
And hid under the bed, in this nuclear scare.
And some special force guy was out in the kitchen;
While a Fox newsgirl was moaning and bitching.
A bundle of bombs he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a monster in a forty-pound pack.
His eyes -- how they hid behind goggled night-vision;
As his laser-sight locked: but what was his mission?
His droll little coat was tan and white cammo;
And he was packed to the max with big guns and ammo.
The stump of his arm hung from his shirt;
And his clothes were all covered in sand and dirt.
Then when he spoke, I formed a plan;
'Cause he was my son from Afghanistan.
And I swore he wouldn't go back over there;
I'd get him in Congress where they just didn't care.
A wink of his eye and a trauma to his head,
Soon gave me to know I had plenty to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to TV;
Where Fox gave a terrorist speeches for free.
And laying down fast beside our big tree;
He blasted that image; He had PTSD
As I watched him freak out I knew what we'd find;
That VA funding would be left far behind.
Tax-payers, soldiers, and workers they fleece
But all I want for Christmas is my son in one piece
Nothing about America is right
still, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."
Patrick T. Lancaster (AKA Jeffersons Ghost)
|
Printer-friendly format
Email this thread to a friend
Bookmark this thread
(1000+ posts)
Send PM |
Profile |
Ignore
