It was days before Christmas, when all through the US House
No real legislation was stirring, because they’re ran by a louse.
The economy was dangling by the fiscal cliff on a dare,
in hopes that President Obama would cave on a scare.

The upper two percent of Americans were nestled all smug in their beds,
with visions of permanent Bush tax cuts dancing in their heads.
And momma Steph in her studio, and Chris Lavoie on her lap,
had just settled their brains for a long winter’s political scrap.

When out on the Capitol Mall there arose such a clatter,
The GOP Caucus sprang from the chamber to see what was the matter.
Away to the rotunda they flew like a flash,
through some lobbyists who threw them some cash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the luster of midday to objects below.
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
but thousands of Occupy Wall   Street giving up a cheer.

With a community organizer there, so lively and quick,
they knew in a moment they were about to be sick.
More rapid than bald eagles their anger came,
and they whistled, and shouted, and called them out by name!

“Now Boehner! now, Cantor! now, McCarthy and Bachmann!
On, Gohmert! On, King! on, on West and Kingston!
For the wishes of the polling! for the demands of us all!
Now vote our way! Vote our way! Vote our way, you all!”

As the destruction that came from hurricane Sandy still lie,
they meet up with obstacles like Cantor demanding offsets or die.
So up to the Jersey shore, the people they knew,
with little coming from Congress, they were screwed too.

And then, in a press release, we heard on the air
the crying and sobbing of each Teapublican there.
As we drew in our breath, and went turning around,
Down the GOP approval ratings came with a sound.

The people have had enough, from this childish two percent protection,
and the trust they ever had was all tarnished from their obstruction.
A bundle of emails and Tweets had been flung to their PAC,
and they looked like a swindlers, just covering their back.

Boehner’s eyes-how they teared! his dimples how orangey!
His cheeks were like moist towelettes, his nose like a cherry!
His drool on his little mouth was dripping down and lo,
the quivering of his chin was quite a little show.

The stump of his gavel he held tight in his grip,
And he waved it, encircled it over head, oh what a trip.
He had to come up with something to save his diminishing power,
Meanwhile Norquist was worried too and needed a shower!

Boehner came up with a Plan B to try to save himself,
and we laughed when we saw him, what a pathetic elf!
Another tear in his eye and a crick in his head,
soon gave us comfort to know we had nothing to dread.

His caucus spoke not a word of support, and the press went straight to work,
And everyone clearly knew, that Boehner was nothing but a jerk.
And his Plan B died in his own caucus, a dumb course he chose,
and giving us a nod of futility, the polling for Democrats rose!

He sprang out of the way, to his team like a missile,
and away they all flew out of town to our chants and our whistle.
And we all had to exclaim, as this Congress’ term was too far to the right,
“Happy mid-term 2014 to all, and we have not yet begun to fight!”