Occupying "twas the night before christmas"

Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the house
not a creature was stirring
not even a mouse
(the rats were all in DC on Capitol Hill)
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care
hope they'd dry by tomorrow
another protest march we'd all be there

The children had crashed all limp in their beds
with visions of Occupy danced in their heads.
Mom was wearing her cold weather head gear
and I wrapped in a space blanket and fisherman's cap
had just settled in
after listening to rap

When all of a sudden there rose such a clatter
I jumped from the bed
had someone smashed a vinyl platter?
I dashed to the window
and threw up the sash
checked my wallet
but their was no cash

The moon lit the camp I could make out objects below
tents and rain gear and thank god no snow
When, what to my watery eyes should appear
More back up police in riot gear

With little old sergeant, clip board and night stick
I knew in a minute eviction would be quick
More rapid than protons his bellows they came
he radioed and hollered and called them by name

Now O'Donnell! now Dugan! now Murphy and Thomas!
On Connley, On Kerry, on Flannagan and Amos
To the streets! to the sidewalks! to the alleys don't fall!
Round em up round em up round em up all!

Like dry leaves before wild hurricane fly
protesters they did scatter with chopper in sky
So out of the park protesters they flew,
With nap sacks and back packs and the old sarg too.

And then with an anti twinkle I heard from the park
tents being ripped and with video proof.
As I covered my head and was turning around,
cops pushing and shoving many hit the ground.

He was dressed in all black from his head to his toe
not a wrinkle or blemish he was no average Joe
A large canister of mace he had slung on his back,
looked like a fire fighter with mask and hard hat

His eye did not twinkle, his dimples be none,
looking at his holster, he was carrying a gun
his mouth did scowl, we wanted to know
when the beatings would start, with each baton blow.

From the look in his eyes, and the clench of his teeth
no merriment here, no dancing feet
his shoulders were broad, his middle rotund,
I could tell by his demeanor, this would be no fun

He was dark and imposing, a stern young elf
I chanted and protested at him, in spite of myself
with a scowl and sneer and a shake of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had everything to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
clubbing protesters galore, to me what a jerk!
And laying a finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, to the patrol car he goes.

He sprang to paddy wagon, to driver he did whistle
It was off to detention, what a mean old pistol
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"58 protesters arrested this eviction night!"