Twas the night before Christmas, when all through both Houses
Not a creature was stirring, not even the louses.
The bailouts were stacked by the coffers with care,
In hopes that St. Paulson soon would be there.
The citizens had nestled as best as they could
After paying their taxes and foraging for food.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief and I in my cap,
Had settled our bones for a brief winter nap.
When out in the street there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I crawled in exhaustion
Tore open the shutters and flashed on my pension.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen trash
Gave the luster of xray and the color of ash.
When, what to my inundated eyes should appear
But a gas-guzzling sleigh, and eight oily reindeer.
With a big crafty driver and a pink piggy bank
I knew in a moment it must be St. Hank.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted and called them by name!
“Now Fannie! Now, Freddie! Now Citi and Lehman!
On Merrill! On Morgan! On AmEx and Goldman!
To the top of the porch! To the back of the vault!
Now dash away, dash away! Dash away, all!
As dry leaves that ‘fore the wild hurricane fly
When they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky,
So off to the Caymans the coursers they flew
With a sleigh full of loot, and Hank the Bank too.