Rhyme for our times

‘TWAS the night before Christmas And in the White House, The Obamas were packing. (Barack and his spouse).

Michelle said: ‘It’s tragic That we have to go, Donald Trump has no taste, Though he’s loaded with dough.

‘He’ll turn the place into A trashy Trump shrine, With bling everywhere And a big neon sign.

‘There’ll be fountains and statues And gold chandeliers, And that’s how it will be For at least four more years.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Barack. ‘If it is, then so be it. We won’t get invited So we won’t have to see it.

‘Though it grieves me that Trump Will be the next resident, Let’s enjoy our last Christmas While I am still President.’

So they hugged as the midnight bells Rang loud and clear, ‘Merry Christmas,’ they said, ‘And a happy New Year.’

I.G. Fenner, New Milton, Hants.