Twas the night before Covid

It’s The Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

I wrote this now two years ago

And this year again… I think I should tweak it, or add some stanzas…

But then… Nope.

Don’t fix what ain’t broke!

Hope you all are able to detach these next few weeks and spend some time with loved ones, at least mentally away from the shitfuckery!

-F

Twas the night before Covid
And all through the lab
Not a creature was stirring,
Fed things ending “…nab”

The clones were all bagged
In the sleigh: set to fog
Flying serpentine
With a  jig and a jog

They don’t fear the flu!
So lets cut to the chase
We’ll scare them right through!
And keep up the warm base

Send Comfort out East
Mercy to West
Get them at the ready:
This here is the test!

And so it began
That cold winter night
Perhaps like a coup
One without any fight

And panic ensued!
Freedoms soon gone
New powers embued
All eyes on Wuhan

Send everyone home!
But don’t use a mask,
We don’t know where they went
Just… well, don’t ask?

And grandma and grandpa
Nestled snug in their cot
With nobody to care,
Locked Down, left to rot.

We can shift all the numbers!
With tests nonspecific
They won’t figure it out
Case loads look terrific

And get them with the cure
A new kind of shot
We’ll dork with their genes
And some batches hot

We need a good name
Trusted, like…  Hey!… Vaccine!
We’ll change it in Webster’s
They won’t see it’s obscene.

The TV’s all ours
And everything News
If someone gets wise
We’ll shut off all their views

Its safe and effective!
Take that you foil hats!
Noone hears your invective,
When we own all the chats

And many who imbibed
The shots under test
Stopped, dropped and rolled
To an unending rest

And those who abstained
Were feared and reviled
New untermenschen
Every man, woman and child.

Don’t let them work!
Don’t let them in school!
NOW all must use masks
Black K95!  Aren’t they cool?

But its those of us scorned
Thinking like mad hatters
Some resistance born
Warning something’s the matter

As they come for the kids
Snuggled warm in their beds
We tell them: Hands off.
Over our bodies, dead.

So in this year three
Of Orwellian blight
Work to make minds free!
And to you a good fight!