Twas the night before Crashmas, when all through the house
Not a Democrat was stirring, not even Peter Rouse.
The stocks were pumped by Bernanke with care,
In hopes that recovery soon would be there.
The Faz faithful were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of profits danced in their heads.
And Santelli in his suit, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s crash.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But dilution, a tax break and eight billion shares.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Bernank.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Geitner! now, Summer! now, Prancer (Barney Frank of course) and Biden!
On, Reid! On, Pelosi! on, on Benenson and Pritzer!
To the top with the market! to the top of Wallstreet!
Now pump away! Pump away! Pump away all!"
Happy Holidaize Everyone
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