Listen, my New Year, and you shall now hear
Just how it is at the end of this year,
The holiday firs are seen in their glow –
Once called Christmas trees…that name had to go;
Diversity wields its pure jihad toward God,
It is a religion, worldly and mod,
Look not for Jesus, except at Walmart...
While looking, of course, just fill up the cart.
Oh…Never look back at the promises made
A few months ago as the Truth was waylaid
When O and his pols predicted...perforce!...
That those out of work would number, of course,
A mere eight percent and that not for long
As government spent the economy strong;
“So...take heart, my dears, just go out and spend...”
The prexy said that…said the bad times would end.
Give thanks at this time that the demos hell-bent
On capping the gases that simply are meant
To make icebergs melt...catch folks unawares
And drown half the country, kill all polar bears,
Despite never reading the bill – cap-and-trade –
Since if they had done that they might have been made
To somehow defeat it...instead...seemed to dress
In jackets of strait…but the repubs…well, guess!.
Great things were enacted…the solons were bright,
Said “Don’t Ask, don’t tell” was simply not right,
And soon, the word is, that marriage will be
That he wed a him or her by a she;
The unisex thing the intellects know
Is now just the way that the nation must go,
So surrogate mothers or cloning is in,
The same-sexy parents all set to begin.
And think of the climate – especially just now,
This time of the year when to see a snow-plow
Is everyday stuff in much of the land
Where snow heretofore rarely managed to land;
And listen to Al, the guru of gore,
That soon will envelop this land more and more
As humans and beasts all succumb to the cold –
Frozen by warming as temps downward fold.
In case you’ve not noticed, remark now O’s CHANGE,
Admittedly…yes, well…it seems a bit strange,
But banking and autos are federalized
And everything everywhere must be downsized;
Put more air in tires and save on your fuel,
And use the right light-bulbs...yeah...don’t be a fool,
The planet is dying, the U.N. has said,
Stop breathing out carbon or Earth will be dead.
The prez said no oil wells offshore can be drilled,
Get used to the prices that you will be billed,
And mind you, he promised in campaigning mode
To skyrocket current right to overload;
And taxes he promised…and so did the veep…
To raise on the folks who succeed but are cheap,
He promised in two years those folks will pay up
When he wins again…the repubs’ bitter cup.
At year’s end think not of recession and such –
Obama’s guru of finance said as much...
Recession is over, thus said he to all,
So go to the mall and…well…have…a ball,
And simply pretend that the U.S. ain’t broke,
Just use credit cards and be part of the joke...
The veep said bankruptcy is nothing to fear,
Just borrow and spend and be of good cheer.
At year’s end don’t worry...the dollars are sound,
Just go to Beijing, where some billions are found,
And if you want jobs, go to Beijing and jive,
Those folks make our undies, our shoes...and they thrive;
Don’t look for those things where they used to be made,
“The land of the free,” now just a tirade,
Just wire the White House that you’re too big to fail,
Then wait for a check in the very next mail.
At year’s end fret not, for old Gitmo’s not gone,
Those terrorist dudes will not (gasp) face the dawn
In Brooklyn or out on the midwestern plain
Where they can chow down in the land of no pain
And laugh as they strut before TV’s bright light
And spew out their garbage in everyone’s sight,
Praise Allah and jihad...the prez saw the light –
Like all infidels, he would keep his head tight.
Do not hesitate…oh dear no, not a sec…
To keep in your mind your soft infidel neck,
When passing through airports, just take off your shoes,
Never start whining and don’t sing the blues,
And when they start scanning your skeleton rare
Just grin as your assets are laid out quite bare,
It’s not fun and games…the imams make plain,
That infidels jive…but only when slain.
At year’s end don’t worry if you might feel faint,
The Big O and demos are now your new saint,
Their health-care is promised for hangnails or plague
Or bones that are broken or feverish ague;
If old or if young, don’t worry at all,
For lines will not form until you need to call
And simply are told that in six months...about...
You get a knee-joint or a gall bladder out.
And as you get old toward the end of your year,
Just check the new rules and allay your fear,
The doctors are paid to counsel old guys
Just how to put death in a sort of disguise;
They put in perspective just how you should go,
Not kicking or screaming…just go with the flow,
With grace all around, just give up your space
And let some poor soul occupy that old place.
At year’s end chill out...don’t be stupid...oh no!
Not like policemen, as described by Big O,
Since he’s got your back from the crib to the grave,
And you from yourself he has promised to save;
And take it from prez, if you’re ever in doubt,
Teleprompters can help, with the stuff they give out,
And don’t hesitate if you’re asked to surmise
About the U.S. – be quick...APOLOGIZE!
And so it goes.