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Twas the Months after Christmas (with apologies to Clement Moore)

Twas the months after Christmas, when all through the House, not a creature was stirring, not even a spouse. The motions were hung up in Senate with care, no hopes that St Jean soon would be there.

Twas the months after Christmas, when all through the House,

not a creature was stirring, not even a spouse.

The motions were hung up in Senate with care,

no hopes that St Jean soon would be there.

The MP's were nestled all snug in their beds,

while visions of appointments danced in their heads.

And Layton in his do- rag, and Michael in his cap,

Had just settled their brains for a long winter's nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

we sprang from our beds to see what was the matter.

Away to the Commons we flew like a flash,

tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

gave the lustre of "news" to non events below.

When, what to our cynical eyes should appear,

But a tricked out Buick, and eight Mounties, eyes wide in fear..

With a little old driver, so calm and even,

we knew in a moment it must be St Stephen.

More rapid than Arrows his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Flaherty, now Hill, now McKay and Prentice!

On Harris, on Oda, on Strahl and on Breton!

To the top of the polls to the top of the wall!

Now dash away dash away dash away all!"

As civil servants that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up to the house-top the Cabinet they flew,

With the sleigh full of pollsters, and St Stephen too.

And then, in a twinkling they heard on the roof

the prancing and pawing of each sycophant hoof.

As we drew in our heads, and were turning around,

Down the chimney St Stephen came with a bound.

He was dressed all in seal fur, from his head to his foot,

and his clothes were all tarnished with carbon ash and soot.

A bundle of promises he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a politician, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled, his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like Don Cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the color of his skin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a rose he held tight in his teeth,

and the crown it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

that shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of royal jelly!

He was less chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

and we laughed when we saw him, in spite of ourselves.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

soon gave us to know the Opposition had much to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

recalibrating his agenda, then turned with a jerk.

And laying his middle finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his Buick, 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,

proroguing the House is just one of my rights"