‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a critter was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of normalcy danced in their heads;
And me in my ‘kerchief, and John in his cap,
Had just snuggled down for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
With Trump on the loose I expected a scene ,
I hadn’t slept soundly since 2016.
The moon on the breast of election day snow,
Gave a tangerine luster to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a glimmer of promise, diminishing fear,
With a little old driver, so raring to go,
Forget about Nicholas, this must be St. Joe.
More rapid than eagles his soldiers they came,
And he cheered, and he shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Kamala! Stacey! Pelosi and Jill!
Ginsburg! And Yellen! My god, what a thrill! To crash through the ceiling! On top of the wall!
Let’s dash away madness, let’s dash away all!”
These women as as bright as the star studded sky, They’ll carry us onward and with them we’ll fly,
The house and the senate they’ll turn the night blue,
A sled full of hope, and Pete Buttigieg too.
I heard, in a twinkling, the playing of notes,
The prancing and dancing of millions of votes .
As I bobbed to the music, and spun all around,
From the chimney St. Joe he appeared with a bound.
He was dressed up for winter, from head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A troubled campaign it had taken its toll,
But he looked like a rocker who’s ready to roll.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And his hair was as white as the whitest of snow; Let’s do this he shouted! Our future, how merry!
The Paris Accord in the hands of John Kerry!
Joe spoke to me firmly, he gritted his teeth, The challenges circled his head like a wreath,
We’ve got a real mess on our hands this is true, So what do you think that John Lewis would do?
Good trouble, O’biden, you wonderful elf!
I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know we had little to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
He filled up his cabinet; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, to the White House he rose;
Joe sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him proclaim, as he drove out of sight,
HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND NOW LET’S GET IT RIGHT!
Robin Meloy Goldsby is a Steinway Artist. She is the author of Piano Girl; Waltz of the Asparagus People: The Further Adventures of Piano Girl; Rhythm: A Novel and Manhattan Road Trip, a collection of short stories about (what else?) musicians.
Robin’s music is available on all streaming platforms. If you’re a Spotify fan, go here to listen. NEW! Check out the Piano Girl Podcast. Stories, music, fun. Do you play the piano? Have a look at Robin’s solo piano sheet music here, including her popular arrangement of the Pachelbel Canon in D.