Twas the night before Christmas

  And all through the Senate

 All the Dems were conniving

   To defy public sentiment

The amendments were all gutted

  By the scoundrels who dared

 To please St. Obama

 And pass Public Health Care.

The Solons worked on, away from their beds

  As permanent majorities danced in their heads.

Their supporters all snug in their pointed tin caps           

  Roused old Leahy and Sanders from their regular naps.

Though tea-parties and bloggers aroused so much clatter

  The Senators paid them no mind and no matter.

Any doubters amongst them were bribed in a flash

  Of porcine amendments infusing fresh cash.

Despite Global Warming and 2 feet of new snow

  And the woeful State Media’s lack of desire to know,

Harry Reid’s minions stood up to the test

 And donned their political suicide vests.

The loons trudged on through the new fallen snow

  To determine exactly how much lower than low

 Their ratings could plunge, when what should appear

  But Ben Nelson willing to end his career!

With their little old driver, so wan and enfeebled,

  It had to be the Senate Majority Leader.

Slicker than weasels his minions they came

  Harry coughed and he mumbled and called them by name:

“Now Schumer! Now Boxer! Now Baucus and Tester!

  On Burris, on Durbin!  On Franken and Specter!

Let’s cover abortions, illegals and make

  A giant bureaucracy the people’s money to take.

With arm-twisting and goodies they moved t’ward their goal

  To find 60 Senators and purchase their souls.

So down to their chambers the fuglemen rallied

  This white Christmas Eve to determine the tally.

And then in a hissing we heard on the floor,

  More lies and dissembling than ever before,

As I pressed the remote and studied the screen

  At the podium appeared Harry Reid’s pallid mien.

He sagged ‘neath the currency spilling from each

  Pocket and sleeve as he reached

To dispense all the largesse in hand

  To every vote-bringer from all over the land.

His eyes sunk and hollow, his furrow so creased

  You couldn’t tell if he were deceased,

His yellowish teeth clenched tightly he gnashed

 As he parcelled out wads of Obamacare cash.

He had a gaunt face and bend in his back

  From years of portraying a partisan hack.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work

  And filled 60 stockings with earmarks and perks.

He slunk to the podium, to his team gave a scowl

 And proceeded to reckon the tally most foul.

Jamming both middle fingers in front of his face

 He let America know who won the Health Care debate.

His team slunk in servitude, resigned to their fate

  Come November where elections await,

They mumbled in unison, as the tally rolled in

“Bah Humbug America! Let the Death Panels begin!”

Ralph Alter blogs at Right on Target www.rightot.blogspot.com