In Honor of Rover - Night Before Fitzmas, Again

'Twas the Night before Fitzmas, and through Hootervill-age,
A hope was held out for an end to the pillage.
An end to the theft of American dollars,
An end to the demonization of scholars.

The people of Hooterville wished and they prayed
For justice and peace to be no more DeLayed.
They longed for the day that their country would be
No longer a captive of venality.

For many a year now, the Hooterville people
Have cried, "What's the matter with all of you sheeple?
How can you just sit there and let this go on?"
But, sadly, their outrage was met by a yawn.

And those who were stealing from those who have least,
Rampaging like some kind of greed-maddened beast,
Were holding us up, shouting, "This is a heist!
So put up your hands in the name of our Christ!"

Then, what to our wondering eyes should appear
But a man speaking words that we so longed to hear:
"It's time for the Piper at last to be paid"
And Hooterville happily hip-hip-hoorayed.

Indictments all round for the scum who would claim
That they'd never known Wilson or Valerie Plame
And all along, vengeance had been the sole reason
To 'out' our own agent, and so commit treason.

For war must be waged, and their coffers be filled -
Who cares about mothers whose sons have been killed?
Who cares for the dying, the crying, the hurtin' -
Just look at those profits for ol' Halliburton!

It's time for the hammer of justice to fall;
Time we put a stop to it once and for all.
A stop to corruption, and cronies, and lies.
Let's stop before one more American dies.

And what do I want 'neath my own Fitzmas tree?
A Scooter, a Rover, maybe a Cheney!