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A Visit From POTUS
‘Twas the night before Ramadan (Allah be praised!)
The camels were tethered, the sheep safely grazed.
The wives were all sleeping curled up on their rugs
While dozens of grandchildren nestled like bugs.
I, Abou ben Adhem, the Bulbul Ameer,
Was sharing a pipe with Ali, my Vizier,
When out of the desert came such a brouhaha
We fell on our knees and cried out to Allah!
We pulled back the tent flaps and gazed at the night
As we tried to discover the source of our fright.
The moon was a crescent (Praise Allah!) and stars
Glittered above us, and Venus, and Mars.
When over the sand dunes there came a faint whinny,
That curdled my soul like a gath’ring of djinni.
A screeching! A clanking! A banging! A roar!
A hideous voice that we’d ne’er heard before:
“Pull Condie, Pull Rovie, Pull Ashcroft and Tommy!
Pull Rudy and Cheney, pull Billy and Rummy!
Pull Rushie, pull Colin, pull Wolfie and FLOTUS!
Pull hearty my subjects, for I am the POTUS!”
And then there appeared such a rude apparition
Ali called out loud for the royal physician.
Cresting a sand dune and then down the bank
Came a line of tired infidels pulling a tank!
They were dressed all in suits in the crude western style,
They were huffing and puffing and sweaty and vile.
They stopped in their traces and set down their rope
As the tank hatch popped open and out popped a dope.
He was dressed in a flak suit and a funny red hat.
His eyes were close-set, he had ears like a bat.
His grin was so foolish I needed no push
To know in an instant: it’s George Dubya Bush!
He slid down the turret and then to the dirt,
He kicked at the treads, and that seemed to hurt.
He jumped up and down with a howl and a whimper.
Then he turned and he smiled, and he started to simper.
“How ya doin’, effendis?” we both heard him call,
“Merry Christmas, and Allah-hoo ackbar to y’all!
We was roamin’ about seekin’ nucular warheads.
We just come from Baghdad, but they was all soreheads.
“Them suicide bombers sure give us a lickin’!
But we stayed the course; you can’t call us chicken!
‘Fore we go back to Eye-raq and whup their behinds
We figgered we’d drive around, win hearts and minds.
“Then we run out of gas somewheres near Fallujah!
We need a full tank. Couldja fill ‘er up? Couldja?
In the meantime, we brung lots of presents for y’all.
Condie, run git that sack, girl! Git on the ball!”
A dark-skinned girl infidel went ‘round the back
And returned pretty quick with an overstuffed sack.
“Henh, henh, henh,” the man sniggled, untying the bow,
“Or acksh’ly I guess I should say ‘Ho, ho, ho!’
“I’m Santy Clause, git it? Don’t start a jihad!
I’ll give you the Christmas y’all heatherns ne’er had!”
He opened the sack and began to unload
The most odious things, the hideous toad.
“This here’s a cross, and on it’s Our Savior;
You follow Him and He’ll clean up your behavior!
And this here’s a Bible; you read it, okay?
I guar-an-damn-tee you it’ll show you the way!
“And now for the feast! Rummy, run git that hamper!
And move it, or you’ll be one unhappy camper!
And no camel jerky or old MREs;
It’s only the best for our friends, if you please!
“We got cranberry sauce, we got dressin’ and taters,
We got pecan pie and we got stewed tomaters!
We ain’t got no turkey, we ain’t got no Spam,
But feast upon this, guys! A nice Christmas ham!”
We summoned the eunuchs, our big trusty boys,
And they laid him down flat midst his infidel toys.
They stripped him, chastised him (praise Allah!) and then
Did something to give some big laughs to the men.
He leaped to his feet, to his team gave a squeak,
Then away they all flew with a scream and a shriek.
And I saw a strange thing all a-flap in the breeze:
The seat of his red white and green BVDs.
And Ali exclaimed as the infidel passed,
“He runs pretty good with a ham up his ass.”
But we heard him shout, as o’er the sand dunes he ran:
“BRING ‘EM ON, MOTHERFUCKERS! NEXT STOP, EYE-RAN!”
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