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Carols of Shrubby Doings

by Scott McNutt

Not only are the evil liberals unwilling to acknowledge President Bush’s whopping, mandate-setting, 51-percent landslide; they’re ruining the holidays with godless rewrites of Christmas songs. Don’t read their scurrilous efforts (shown below so you’ll know what to avoid).

The Christmas Election Song:

Chestnuts Liberals roasting on an open fire,
Jack Frost nipping at Ashcroft peeping up your nose,
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir Imagined plots being heard through a wire,
And folks dressed up like Eskimos for nuclear snow.
Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe some captives done up for show,
Help to make the season paranoia bright.
Tiny tots Zealots with their eyes all aglow,
Will find it hard to sleep tonight.
They know that Santa’s on his term two is on its way,
He’s bringing lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh pinko commie dismay.
And every mother’s child is gonna spy,
To see if reindeer really know how to fly mom is a terrorist in disguise.
And so I’m offering this simple phrase Bush sends this communiqué:
To kids from Suspects may be one to ninety-two.
Although it’s been said many times, many ways,
Merry Christmas to We have our eyes on you.

The Little Drummer Drafted Boy:

Come they told me.
Pa rum pum pum pum Said Rumsfeld, “come, come.”
A new born King draft board to see.
Pa rum... Said Rumsfeld, “come, come.”
Our finest gifts sons we bring rush,
Pa rum... Said Rumsfeld, “come, come.”
To lay before the King Bush.
Pa rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum.
So to honor fight for Him,
Pa rum... Said Rumsfeld, “come, come.”
When we come.
Little baby Look here, Dubya,
Pa rum... Said Rumsfeld, “come, come.”
I am a poor boy, too you.
Pa rum... Said Rumsfeld, “come, come.”
I have no gift to bring It’s not my shit to sling,
Pa rum... Said Rumsfeld, “come, come.”
That’s fit to give our King Your mitt holds the shiv, O King.
Pa rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum.
Shall I play for you Must I die for you,
Pa rum... Said Rumsfeld, “come, come.”
On my drum You and your Rum?
Mary Dubya nodded.
Pa rum... Said Rumsfeld, “come, come.”

Walking in a Winter Wonderland Walker in a Winner’s Plunderland:

Sleigh bells ring Children scream.
Are you listening?
In the lane Iraq,
Snow is glistening Bullets whistling.
A beautiful sight,
we’re Bush’s happy tonight,
Walking in a winter Walker in a winner’s wonderland.
Gone away is the bluebird Shut away are the boo birds.
Here to stay is a new bird Dubya stays for a new term.
He sings a love hums a war song,
As we go he goes along,
Walking in a winter wonderland Walker in a bigger blunderland.
In the meadow we can build a snowman Iran he can build a straw man.
Then pretend that he is Parson Brown they have bombs to be found.
He’ll say: Are you married? “Are they buried?”
We’ll say: No man They’ll say, “Amen!”
But you can do the job when you’re in town they will beg and sob when they’re burnt down.
Later on we’ll he’ll conspire,
As we dream by the fire he gloats on the fires.
To face unafraid,
The plans that we’ve made new world he’s made,
Walking in a winter wonderland Walker in a winner’s plunderland.
In the meadow we can build a snowman Iraq he can claim a strong man.
And pretend that he’s Though we know that he’s a circus clown.
We’ll have lots of fun with mister snowman hype with Minister Strong Man,
Until all the kids knock him down his people cast him down.
When it snows they bow,
Ain’t it thrilling?
Though your nose gets a chilling their “ohhhs” get kinda silly.
We’ll frolic and play the Eskimo way He’ll have the last say with his puppet-show play,
Walking in a winter wonderland Walker’s walking in his winner’s plunderland.

December 23, 2004 • Vol. 14, No. 52 © 2004 Metro Pulse