Wednesday, December 09, 2009

T'was The Night Before the Election

T'was the night before the election,
And all through the upstate,
Not a delegate was certain of the Diocese's fate.

The liberals were sleeping
All in the same bed.
With visions of Same Sex weddings
Dancing in their heads.

I in my conservative thinking cap,
With the dog looking on.
Stayed awake wondering
What might go wrong.

When off went the scanner with a dreadful alert,
A Episcopal wreck on the interstate!
A call for the Pewster to get to work.

I ran to the highway
And what was the bother?
A broken down church van,
And six men in white collars.

And there on roadside,
All covered with bug splat,
Was St. Nicholas himself
A'fixin a flat!

The churchmen were harnessed
To tow the old wreck,
When St. Nicholas finished up,
And shouted, "Oh Heck..."

"On Linder, on Waldo, on Williams and Thompson!
On Burwell, Michell, we best be a hustlin.
To the Cathedral in Columbia,
To the State Capital.
Pull away, pull away, pull away all!"

I hopped on the bumper
To see where they went.
That team was holy fast,
One hundred percent.

With three on the left and three on the right,
St. Nick had that van haulin
Straight through the night.

We got to Columbia
And the church parking lot.
Santa unhitched the dog collars
And checked his list to see who got what.

He read, "The Laity is conservative
The clergy is liberal."
"What they need here is a doggone consiberal!"

I jumped from the bumper,
And ran to his side.
"No, not a moderate!" I said.
"You pick one," he replied.

I said, "Give me Michell, Williams, and Burwell, all three!"
But Santa shook his head,
and spoke straight to me,
"You can only have one.
Which one will it be?"

I said, "Which one will be faithful, true and trustworthy,
A pastor, a father, a leader, and preacher?
St. Nick, which one will be the best teacher?"

So Santa packaged one up,
Threw in a crozier and miter.
And a purple shirt too,
I hope he left us a fighter.

He hitched up his churchmen,
Who turned left on Bull Street,
When I last saw them.
The were pounding their feet.

Then off in the distance,
Santa cried through the night,

"Blessed election to all, I hope it works out out alright!"

2009 U.P.


  1. Witty.

    I should hope the real St. Nick of Myra would give you a straight up, "unpacked" suggestion. The Lord knows...

  2. Consider keeping your day job.

  3. Cato,

    So I guess I won't be getting that Pulitzer prize for blogging huh?

  4. Considering the recent criteria for receiving the Nobel prize, the Pulitzer prize, and the like, this is probably no great loss.

  5. Thanks Geez, I'll be watchin your blog.

  6. The original version was penned at General Seminary by it's Hebrew/OT prof, Clement Clark Moore.

    Sigghhh. May your blog (and diocese!) fare better than GTS. You are in my prayers as you get near voting.