Ministry

Ministry frontman Al Jourgensen has penned a poem, certain to become a holiday tradition.

'T'was The Night Before Impeachment"

"'T'was 2007 and all through the year

Not a creature was buying this climate of fear

The stockings were hung in a foreclosure scare

In hopes that the Banks would forget we were there!

The soldiers were nestled all snug in their beds

While visions of extended tours messed with their heads

And Dick and Lynn Cheney with shotguns in lap

Had just pardoned Scooter for shutting his yap

When down at the White House there arose such a clatter

I sprang out the door to see what was the matter!

Away to the protest I flew like a flash

I marched for a while and got tazed in the clash

Then soon I was arrested – for what I don't know

But the ACLU said that "This just won't go!"

When what to my wondering eyes should appear

But a miniature Cheney and eight dead reindeer

With his pacemaker pumping, so lively and quick

I knew in a moment it must be St. Dick!

Faster than subpoenas, his minions they came

He waterboarded and tortured and called them by name:

'Now Halliburton! Now Exxon! Now Conoco! Now Shell!

On Blackwater! On Bechtel! – Let's all go to Hell!

To the top of the West Wing, to the top of The Wall

Now stash away! Stash away! Stash way All!'

As voters are wondering why their vote doesn't fly

Here comes Karl Rove and he'll tell you why

So up to the White House the CEOs flew

With a sleighful of cash and Dick Cheney too!

And then, in a twinkling I heard on the roof

Was the hemming and hawing of the ultimate Goof (heh heh heh heh)

I raised just one finger and jumped all around

Coz there on the roof Ol "Dubya" came round

He was dressed all in fur that Cheney had killed

He looked rather dapper on the taxpayers' bill

A bundle of cash he had flung on his back

Looked happy as Cheney right before an attack

His eyes — how they twinkled, but his manners were weary

Coz Alberto Gonzales has so much to bury!

His droll little mouth was drawn up in a sneer

Like all of those press conferences he holds so dear

The stump of a crack pipe he held in his teeth

He said: 'Laura, I'm sorry! I've relapsed — I'm weak!'

And his friend had a Wide Stance and a little round belly

That shook when he laughed in a toilet so smelly

Dim-witted and dumb a right jolly old elf

And I laughed when I saw him, giving way my own stealth

A wink of his eye and a snap of his finger

Soon gave me to know I shouldn't loiter or linger

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

Put the cash in his stockings, then turned with a jerk

And laying his finger aside of his nose

Thumbs up! And a nod for the coke that he chose

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle

And away to Iran like a nuclear missile!

But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight:

'Happy Christmas to no one — Impeachment's not right!'"