Merry Fitzmas

'Twas the night before Fitzmas, and in the White House
Every one was scared shitless, and Bush was quite soused.
The indictments were hanging like Damocles' sword
As verminous oxen prepared to be gored.

The perps were all sleepless, curled fetal in bed,
While visions of prison cells loomed in each head.
And Dick in his jammies and George in his lap
Were sweating and swearing and looking like crap.

When out on the web there arose such a clatter,
The blogs and the forums were buzzing with chatter.
Away to the PC Rove ran like a flash;
He booted his browser and cleared out his cache.

The rumors that flew through the cold autumn air
Made Dubya shiver with angry despair.
When what to his horror-filled eyes did he spy?
A bespectacled man with a brown suit and tie!

With an impartial manner that gave Bush the shits,
He knew in a moment it must be St. Fitz!
With unwavering voice, his indictments they came.
He cleared out his throat and he called them by name:

Now Scooter, Now Libby,
Now Blossoming Turd,
Now Cheney, dear Cheney,
Yes, you are the third.
To the bench of the court,
Up the steps, down the hall,
Now come along, come along,
Come along, all!

He then became silent and went right to work.
He filed the indictments and turned with a jerk
And, pointing his finger at justice's scale,
Said, "The people be served, and let fairness prevail."

He then left the room, to his team gave a nod,
And the sound could be heard of a crumbling facade.
And we all did exclaim, as he faded from sight
"Merry Fitzmas to all, and to all a good night!"

(found at Progressive Review)