'Twas the night before Impeachment, and in the White House
Trump was a-snoring -- along with his spouse.
The subpoenas were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes they'd burn up right into the thin air.
The staff was all nestled in cubicles grey,
fearing what Trump would do the next day.
The ghost of Abe Lincoln did wander the halls,
making a racket with his chains and his balls.
When on the South Lawn there arose such a clatter
it woke up the Prez -- and his wife, for that matter.
Off to the window they flew like a flash --
hoping 'twas Russians with plenty of cash.
The moonbeams did play on Marine One, which sat
awaiting the President's next strange format.
When what to their wondering gaze came along,
but a member of Congress a-singing a song.
She warbled like something by Bela Lugosi,
so Trump recognized it was Nancy Pelosi.
She sang out the names of her fellow subversives,
writing them down in the snow with great cursives.
"Hurry up, Nadler -- Doug Collins, stop lagging!
Scanlon and Lofgren, keep up with the nagging!"
Then like a witch with an aerial broom,
Pelosi flew up into Trump's own bedroom.
She was dressed in faux fur, from her head to her toes,
and she sniffed at the Prez with her cherry red nose.
She was lean, she was gaunt; a rather grim sprite.
She gave dear Melania quite a bad fright.
With a wink of her eye and a deep feral growl,
around the poor couple she started to prowl.
She spoke not a word, but continued to stare --
until the Trumps thought they would lose all their hair.
Then laying a finger aside her bright nose,
she gave a quick laugh and up the chimney she rose.
She grabbed an e-scooter on K Street North West,
but as she took off she got THIS off her chest:
"Happy hunting to all who this night want to see
the end of this scandalous Presidency!"
