'Twas the night before Christmas at the ACLU
'Twas the night before Christmas, at the ACLU,
Twelve lawyers were sitting with nothing to do;
Their court briefs were piled on the table with care,
In hopes they could find a judge still working somewhere.
The plaintiffs were busy rehearsing their lines,
With visions of jury awards filling their minds;
And Heather in her Halston and Leo in his Armani,
Were working the phones like Patton’s 3rd Army.
When out in the lobby arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the door I flew like a jet,
Ran right down the hall and worked up a sweat!
The lamp in the corner threw off a great glow,
Reflected in the Corsican tiles below;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a liberal judge, and eight clerks at his rear.
With a flick of a finger, so lively and brisk,
He drew out a gavel and pounded the desk.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.
"Now, Roscoe! now, Morton! now Ashley and Vixen!
On, Kwame! on Harvey! on, Sheryl and Dixon!
To the conference room table! Take the case that you choose!
It’s just hours ‘fore Christmas! Not a moment to lose!
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an order, they never ask why.
So atop the big table their briefcases flew,
And they beckoned for help from the ACLU.
And then, in a twinkling, the laser printer did clatter,
And his clerks and my lawyers engaged in loud chatter;
As I drew in my head, and was looking around,
Down the hall came the judge – he had put on his gown.
He was dressed all in black, from his head to his foot,
And he wore on his face a most sinister look.
The gavel he’d rattled now twirled in his hand,
And he looked at the ready to quiet this band.
His eyes were like coal, his mouth in a frown!
His cheeks were all hollow, his nose twisted down!
He smirked as he shouted, “Get moving! Let’s Go!
There’s a Christmas to ruin – get on with the show!”
His stump of a pipe emitted a cloud,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a shroud.
He had a thin face and big ears like Perot,
That wiggled, when he spoke, just a very odd show.
He read all the briefs, as we sat and looked on,
And we feared that our chance to halt Christmas had gone.
But a wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He drew out his pen and went straight to his work,
And filed all the orders with his army of clerks.
Then pounding his gavel he shouted his dictum,
”Christmas is banned, for all time, ad infinitum!”
He sprang to his feet, and his clerks followed suit,
And away they all flew like a horse through a chute;
But I heard him exclaim, ere his tires gave a squeal,
"No more Christmas for all, lest you lose on appeal!" |
