‘Twas A Week Before Christmas: A Visit from the President-elect

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 ‘Twas a week before Christmas, and all ‘cross the Street

All the traders were waiting for Trump’s latest tweet;

The deals were still pending, all up in the air,

And positions were long – as much as they dare;

The PMs were planning portfolio shifts;

Blithely undaunted by strategy drifts;

I lay with my iPad propped on my chest,

Considering just where my fund should invest,         

When on the TV appeared news in the crawl

Must I really now cover another long call?

Away to the Bloomberg I ran like a flash

Logging on quickly to check on my cash.

The guy on the tube was just starting to show

The reasons the Dow had continued to grow,

“We have so much to gain, and nothing to fear,

And healthcare reform will be done in a year.”

“Tax bracket changes will be ever so slick,

And new NAFTA terms – another neat trick.”

Greater in number than snowflakes they came,

People eager to play in the cabinet game:

There’s Rudy! And Betsy! And Steven Mnuchin!

And Wilbur! and Nikki! He even got Ben in!

To the golf club they came; some were called to the City,

But get away! Get away! Get away, Christie!

He’s confounding the pundits, who thought they had knowledge,

And admit he had swept the Electoral College;

He’s a master at Twitter; soon he’ll try Pinterest

As a way to dismiss any conflict of interest.

I saw it on Squawk Box, and Heard on the Street,

And kept learning more about each midnight Tweet.

I wondered aloud what they were all for,

Then suddenly heard a knock on my door.

He was dressed in Brioni, white shirt and red tie,

Of the finest materials money can buy;

He looked like he’d just been expensively tanned

And I knew it cost more than my gold wedding band.

His eyes – how they glinted! His scowl, how chilling!

I needed to move – but my feet were unwilling!

I thought I heard sniffing, and listened intently,

But it was actually the sound of an idling Bentley;

Is he here to thank me for voting correctly?

His policies will do that – though not as directly.

His mass of blond hair was wafting and blowing

Looking almost the same if he’s coming or going.

He was taller and broader than I guessed from TV,

And I froze when I realized he was looking at me;

By the glare of his eye and the nod of his head

He was letting me know I would need to skip bed;

He spoke at great length, all fury and bluster,

And following him took what strength I could muster.

He laid out his plans to grow GDP,

And surprisingly they all seemed viable to me;

He walked out the door to his shiny black car,

Clearly my most ‘big league’ Christmas by far.

A shout left the limo, now more like a luge,

“Better buy in – and soon – this is gonna be yuuuge!”

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By Joseph Bartolotta

(With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)

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