Thursday, November 07, 2019
A Visit from Lord Dampnut
(with apologies to: Clement Clarke Moore - 1779-1863)
'Twas just before Christmas, when all through the Net,
Spread stories of tax breaks and riches -- and yet;
Our cupboards were empty, our carpet threadbare,
Our stockings were darned with our daughter's hair,
The children were hidden, all under their beds,
While nightmares of cages danced in their heads;
And mamma slept fitfully, her head on my lap,
As I kept a watch for ICE and their crap,
When out on the street there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like The Flash,
Peeked through the shutters... and threw up my hash.
The lights on the slush and the dirty snow,
Gave a lustre of sludge to black jackets below,
When, what to my terrified eyes should appear,
But a black limousine, and ICE men drinking beer,
With a lumbering passenger, pallid and thick,
I knew it was Lord Dampnut, that old prick.
More vapid than beagles his sycophants came,
And he bristled, and pouted, and called them all names;
"Now, Smasher! now, Trasher! now, Masher all reavin'!
On, Vomit! on, Stupid! on, Rudy and Stephen!
Now tear off the porch! Now knock down the wall!
Now trash away! mash away! smash away all!"
As dry heaves before the wild hangover scry,
When they meet with a locked door, they blow right by;
So up to our door the invaders flew,
With AR 15s, and Lord Dampnut too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the halls --
The crashing and smashing of windows and walls.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
In my bedroom Lord Dampnut oozed with no sound.
He dressed all in wrinkles, with long, red ties,
And his clothes were all stained by ketchup and fries;
A bucket of chicken was strapped on his back,
And he reached for a drumstick from his greasy pack.
His eyes—how they squinted! his pimples—how scary!
His cheeks were like pork chops, his nose—a blueberry!
His droll little mouth was chomping chicken,
And the beard of his chin looked mangy and stricken;
The bone of a leg he held tight in his teeth,
And the grease it encircled his chin like a wreath;
He had an orange face and a protruding belly,
That shook when he walked, like a bowl of brown jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a malignant old elf,
He'd farted and smelled like he'd soiled himself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had plenty to dread;
He spoke just a word, they went straight to their work,
And stole all our stockings and money, the jerk!
And sticking a finger inside of his nose,
He left, like sewage down the hill flows.
He schlumped to his car, to his team gave the bird,
And away they all drove like a thundering herd;
But I heard him complain, ‘ere they drove out of sight,
"Say a word and we'll come back...tomorrow night.
Posted by Mick at 9:44 PM