Once again it is time for the Christmas cantata of the Ellipse. This year we are favored by President Carter, Rosalynn and Sister Ruth, the Chorus of the Loyal Opposition, baritone Larry Flynt, the Magi, Shepherds and by special permission, Ronald Reagon. I - Loyal Opposition
BRING the fife and banjo, folks, and yell like Ethel Meerman, Swing it with the fervor of a hallelujah sermon,
Roar it with a thunder that will wake dear General Sherman:
Georgians are marching,
Yeah, Georgians are marching!
Marching in their legions from Atlanta to D.C.
Can't you see them marching boldly round the White House Christmas tree?
Rosalyn (Lord help us) serving sassafras for tea!
Don't lie there mum, - See
The agony on Wall Street where we're coming to the crunch
When those crackers in the White House kill the three-martini lunch;
Here the fury in the board rooms where the grapes of wrath are stored-
Will they dare to ban free lunches for the members of the board?
And fees and dues at country clubs,
And meals and drinks we charge at pubs?
We're witnessing the bleak demise
Of our beloved free enterprise.
For how can enterprise be free when perks we've had for ages
Are charged to us or simply taxed like any fellow's wages?
Oh, General Sherman,
Please make them squirm, man.
Roll them back to Chattahoochee,
Make them pay and pay like Gucci.
Heed our plea like good old Santa:
Please come back and scorch Atlanta!
IT IS Christmas, men of business, cease your chidings, For behold, I bring you these most joyful things:
Now, Dr. Arthur Burns and I have reached a happy truce-
He'll sauce my Christmas gander just the way he sauced the goose.
So when election time comes round, with vigor and celerity
He'll pump the blessed dollars out to bring us sweet prosperity,
Just as he did in '72 when such inflated plenty
Swelled victory for you-know-who, his friend of San Clemente. II - President
Such favors, you will all agree, should circulate by turns -
Inflation's not an awesome thing when wrought by Dr. Burns.
And since his kind manuficence assures my re-election,
I'll handle all your perquisities with gentle circumspection.
Now pardon me if, I grow lyrical:
What you're about to witness is a miracle.
My sister Ruth has brought a soul to glory-
Just listen to his sweet and tender story. III - Hustler Larry Flynt
OH a girl can hardly hustle
With a hymnal and a bustle
So I plan to screen each muscle
From the leering eyes of men.
Yes, I'll drape my jaded fillies
In the beauty of the lillies
Till they lead all wayward Willies
To the joys of Born Again.
(Ruth) Born again, born again.
(Rosalynn) Born again, born again.
(President) And he'll shield them from the lusting eyes of men!
(Flynt) And with every new subscription
I'll include this signed inscription:
"If you follow my prescription
We shall all be born again."
Now I have a new agenda
That will bring a pax pudenda
And some rather nice addenda
Shielding children under ten.
Yea for Ruth I'll mute my porno,
Go repent in alien corn, on!
And when Gabriel toots his horn, oh
We shall all be born again! IV - President
Now hear these voices rising in the East
And words of peace to worm our Christmas feast.
(Pastoral Interlude - the Judean Hills). V - The Magi
OH three Wise Persons are we,
We've lived all our lives in B.C.
Till now from afar
We follow this star
And suddenly find it's A.D.
Oh, life's grown so every complex -
They're changing to liters from pecks,
And people at NOW
Have confused Who and How
Till we're not even sure of our sex. VI - Shepherds.
(Joyously to Magi)
ANWAR is icumen in -
Lhude sing Zion!
Begin greeteth, Knesset meeleth,
Now, frisketh lamb with lion.
Speke Sadat and bloweth hot -
Yasir saith Nosir.
Cum Assad and kicketh clod -
Nosir, thrice Nosir,
Golda baketh, bagel maketh,
Anwar eateth, Ivan bleateth;
OPEC reapeth, Shah weepeth -
Lhude sing cuccu,
Sing Zion! VII - President
IT IS that solemn moment once again:
Let word go forth, Good Will and Peace to men -
To Arabs, Jews and Turks and Ecuadorians,
To Greeks, Australians, Pakis, Singaporians,
To Japanese, Somalis and Iranians,
To every one -
Except those Panamanians! President
WE'VE stayed too long. Indeed, it's growing late.
Let's try againin nineteen seventy-eight.