A Fitzmas Poem

Sorry, it is long, but please enjoy. It is also cross-posted at Daily Pepper.

‘Twas the night before Fitzmas, when all through the Whitehouse
Not a creature was stirring, not even a rat,
The memos were hung by the shredder with care,
In dread that St. Fitz soon would be there.
The crooks were nestled all snug in their lies,
While visions of prison cells danced in their heads,
And Laura with her cigarettes, and Shrub in denial,
Had just settled our brains Rove for a fitful sleep...
When out on the lawn there arose such a siren,
W sprang from the bed to see what was the clatter.
Away to the window W flew like a lush,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the hash.
The moon on the breast of those in the know
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the mob below,
When, what to W’s wondering eyes should appear,
But a paddy wagon, and eight officers to instill fear,
With an indictment in hand, so lively and quick,
W knew in a moment it must be the end for his click.
More rapid than eagles Cheney’s arresters they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Dale! now, Dan! now Frank and Diskson!
On, Comet! on Curt! on, Don and Hickson!
To the top of the portico! to the top of the wall!
Now arrest away! arrest away! arrest away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane Katrina fly,
When they meet with an obstacle (Scott McClellan), mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the arresters they flew,
With the wagon full of naught boys, and St. Fitz too.
And then, in an instant, W heard on the roof
The tackling and handcuffing of each little doof.

As W drew in his head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Fitz came with a bound.
He was dressed all in righteousness, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of lies he had flung on his back,
And he looked like an arrester just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled -- his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His smiling mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And he had several helpers in his tow.
The stump of a stenopad he held tight in his teeth,
And the depositions wrapped around his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and very little belly
That made some think he was soft as jelly.
He thought to hlmself that W looks like an elf,
And he laughed when I saw W, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Told W that he had plenty to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And pilfered the halls, then turned to look at the jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
Which was a secret sign, before he rose.
He sprang to his waggon, to his teams gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a mistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Fitzmas to all, and to all a good-indict!"