Twas the Night before Comey

Twas the night before Comey, when all through the White House

All the creatures were stirring, even Reince.

The talking points were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that Sean Hannity soon would be there.

The aides were nestled all stressed in their chairs,

While visions of Twitter melt-downs danced in their nightmares.

And Melania in her New York loft, and I in my couch,

Had just medicated our brains for a long spring slouch.

When out in the media there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.

Away to the television I flew in a panic,

Raced to the offices demanding more Kellyanne static.

The moon on the capitol above the parked news vans

Their camera lights blazing, and I without Ray Bans.

When, what to my bloodshot eyes should appear,

But a black sedan, and eight lawmakers.

With a lanky driver, so full of acrimony,

I knew right away it must be Jim Comey!

More rapid than tweets his lawmakers raced,

He testified, and accused, and strutted all over the place!

“Now Warner! now, Burr! now, Cornyn and McCain!

On, Feinstein! On, Collins! on, Cotton and King!

To the top of the Hill! He just wanted to build a wall!

Now spin away! Spin away! Spin away all!”

And then that night, after tweeting, I heard on the ceiling

The spin and the gloating: The White House was reeling!

As I grabbed the remote, and turned to Fox to warm my heart,

Down the chimney James Comey came with a start.

He was dressed all in black, from his head to his foot,

A bundle of memos pressed against his old suit

His eyes-how they darted! his glare so reserved!

His countenance stoic, like he was recording all he observed!

He dashed to his sedan, to his team gave a smile,

And away they all drove laughing all the while.

But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere they drove out of sight,

“Happy RussiaGate to all, and to all a good-night!”