The Congress were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of pork-barrels danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.

When out by the barn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The sun on the breast-plates of infantry men
Gave the lustre of Dooms-day to rooster and hen,
When, what to my wondering eyes should arrive,
But Saddam Hussein! And he's still alive!

With a pitiful shudder, so scruffy and sad,
I knew in a moment, "this guy's really bad!"
More rapid than hawks Bush's coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.

"Now, Rumsfeld! now, 'Leeza! now, Cheney and Powell!
On, Wolfowitz! Ashcroft! on, Daddy!" he howled.
"To shareholders of Halliburton! to the street they call Wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry, talking heads on the Sunday shows lie,
When they meet with an obstacle, spin on the fly,
So up to the press-corps the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Busholas too.

For then, in a twinkling, Saddam heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As he drew in his head, and was turning around,
Down the tunnel St. Busholas came with a bound.

He was dirty, Saddam, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of rags, where he lay on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they squinted! his dimples how scary!
His cheeks were all pock-marked, his nostrils were hairy!!
His chapped little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The smell of his breath exhaled through yellowed teeth,
And his nappies encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he screamed, like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right miserable troll,
And I laughed when I saw him throw up in a bowl;
A tear in his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

Republicans shouted, with jaunty erections,
"Our worries are over for next year's elections!"
And laying a pistol aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the tunnel they rose.