An ode to The Donald (and his worshipers)

‘Twas a couple of weeks before Solstice, and all through the land
Too many creatures were stirring, it was getting out of hand;
The stockings were put over faces with care,
Spreading fear all around to there, there and here;
The children were hiding deep under their beds;
While visions of terrorists danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just loaded our guns cuz we believe the news crap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the eerily absent snow,
Gave a lustre of spring (not winter) to objects below,
When what to my suspicious eyes did appear,
But a moving van driven by a man with a “leer”,
With a foreign driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be a dick.
More rapid than eagles our guns, out they came,
As he whistled, and shouted, and called someone’s name:
“Now, Abia! now,Dimah! Now Faud and Fitan!
We are here at last! Let’s unload the van!
A the top of my voice I let out the call!
The enemy is here! We must strengthen the wall!”
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the rooftop I and my wife flew
With the clips full of bullets, and a handy grenade or two—
And then, like a twinkling, I heard from the roof
The prancing and playing of children, not at all aloof.
As I questioned in my head, my thoughts turning around,
Down on the telly Mr. Trump came with a bound.
On his head something like fur, in his mouth firmly placed foot,
His image was all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of money he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they mocked! his frown, not at all merry!
His cheeks were all swollen, his nose a drinker’s cherry!
His trolling little mouth was drawn down like a crow,
The spit on his chin was as white as the missing snow;
The stump of an idea he held tight in his teeth,
And the lies, they encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he shouted, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was Donald the Trump, a right nasty old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke many a word, and went straight to his work,
Of filling all with hatred so we all act like a jerk,
And laying his middle finger aside of his nose,
He gave a shout, and up again his ego rose;
He sprang to his soap box, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
“Gullible suckers all, they think I am right!”