‘Twas the Week after New Years

‘Twas the Week after New Years



‘Twas the week after New Years and in the White House

Not a Creature was stirring, just the click of a mouse

The stockings were down, the chimney was bare

You see Chelsea’s at Stanford and St. Hillary’s not there.



Bill’s wife was now snuggled, alone, in New York

With visions of “Senator” and leaving that dork.

Despite several phone calls, she couldn’t be reached

She’d just grown so distant, since he’d been impeached



So Bill just sat there, entrenched in the glow

Of his laptop computer, this year would go slow.

When to this surprise, right there on his screen

Up popped a message from the sultan of mean.



James Carville? thought Bill, now what could he want?

He opened the e-mail and noticed the font.

16 point Pica, so this must be urgent,

he opened and read Corporal Cue Ball’s detergent.



“Dear Bill, Happy New Year, you jolly old elf,

I hope it’s a great one, and you enjoy yourself,

Not too much you know, ‘cause it impacts the polls

But great none-the-less, hope you meet all your goals!”



As our leader sat pondering what would come next

He read on with interest and saw in the text

Several directives for damage control

Crafted with care to keep Hillary whole.



“No interns! That’s final! Just keep yourself zipped.

Fire all those honeys and re-hire Linda Tripp!

Fire Lisa, and Greta, fire Laura and Flo

Fire all women under 40, they just have to go!



My polls show the people want you to lose weight,

So lay off the Big Macs, fried chicken and cake,

Cut down on the Moon Pies, Twinkies and fries

Return to the days when you could show your thighs.



Amidst similar directives the chief hung his head,

Hillary was gone and his future was dead.

A year with no women, and no fatty food,

He couldn’t be smoking; He couldn’t be rude.



And so there we leave him, while we feel his pain,

Any flaw on his part, could be Republican gain,

But for all of the pain, there is little to fear

Rejoice in the thought, that there’s just one more year!!!!



© Barton J. Breen, 2000

Author's Notes/Comments: 

With apologies to Clements

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