'Twas the day after Christmas, through the Senate and House.

Salvation was coming, for every jobless louse.

The cuts were all hung, by the chimney with care,

In hopes that Saint Ayn soon would be there.

The jobless were nestled, all snug in their beds,

While visions of moochers danced in their heads.

Rand Paul in his bootstraps and Cruz in his cap,

Had settled the matter, it's really a snap.

See the poor have too much, the jobless are lazy!

If we give them much less, they'll get hired like crazy!

Food stamps as well, we'll chop them right up!

And if they really must eat, let them pee in a cup!

Paul Ryan'll boot them, four million strong.

Sure, Sequester was eased, 'til the next cliff comes along!

But why stop with food stamps and checks unemployment?

We'll cut down the moochers for our own enjoyment!

As long as we leave defense and farm payouts,

We'll cut it all else, damn lazy lay'bouts!

With a little old lady, scowling so fine,

I knew in a moment it must be Saint Ayn.

And we all called together, our thoughts as they came.

More cuts, chops and clips, and we called them by name!

Now Social Security! Now Medicare! And that Socialist brew!

On Head Start! On Science! On Obamacare, too!

To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall!

Now chop away! Chop away! Chop away, all!