Clinton’s Christmas carols

It was just a week from Christmas. The carol singers had made their rounds, and the old Yuletide spirit reverberated in the festive air. ...

It was just a week from Christmas. The carol singers had made their rounds, and the old Yuletide spirit reverberated in the festive air. Verily, the season of peace and goodwill to all men and nations is upon us, thought Bill Clinton, president of the most powerful nation in the world, as he wrapped up the last of his Christmas gifts. Now let’s see, he told himself, there is that nice Tiffany brooch — diamond-and-platinum — for Hillary (that should sweeten her up), a personal digital assistant for Chelsea, a doggy bone in acrylic for Buddie, a winter coat in artificial fur for Socks, and some really nice Cuban cigars for Monica (she should enjoy that very much).

An old carol that he routinely sang at Sunday school came back to him: The stars in the bright sky, looked down where He lay…, he began. A frown wrinkled the presidential brow. No that won’t do. No Starrs this Christmas, and no impeachment motions too, he told himself firmly, even if I have to bomb Baghdad back to the Stone Age.

That’swhen a brainwave struck him like a missile. That’s it, that’s it! What both Congress and Saddam need are some nice Christmas present delivered by airmail, he whispered, grinning for the first time that evening. He buzzed impatiently for Defence Secretary William Cohen, Secretary of State Madeleine Albright and the joint chiefs of army staff. The operator was also told to get Tony Blair on the line.

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Meanwhile the Yuletide spirit reverberated in the festive air. It was time for peace and goodwill to all men and nations. As the Commander-in-Chief of the US Forces waited for his faithful personnel, snatches of old, favourite Christmas carols came back to him. The words often eluded him, but that didn’t seem to bother him. This is good, he told himself, as he let himself go….

HARK THE HERALD TOMAHAWKS WING!
Hark! the herald Tomahawks wing!
Glory to the President sing,
War on earth and revenge wild,
Bill and Congress reconciled.
Joyful all ye Western nations rise,
Join the triumph ofthe skies,
With the raids on Iraq proclaim,
Pentagon, Baghdad shall maim.
Hark! the herald Tomahawks wing,
Glory to the President sing…..

IT CAME UPON THE MIDNIGHT CLEAR
It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From B-H2Hs winging near the earth,
To bomb Iraq so bold;
Peace on earth, goodwill to men,
From USA’s all-gracious Bill,
The world in solemn languor lay,
To see the missiles kill…

O COME, ALL YE FAITHFUL
(to be sung with Tony Blair, the faithfullest some time)

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O come, all ye faithful,
Powerful and triumphant,
O come ye, O come ye, to Ir-ir-raq.
Come and drop bombs on it,
Upon this child of Satan,
O come, let us bombard him,
O come, let us bombard him,
O come, let us bombard him, Sad-damn-Hussein…

O LITTLE TOWN OF BAGHDAD
O little town of Baghdad,
How still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and restless sleep,
The silent Cruises go by.
Yet in the dark streetsshineth,
The everlasting blasts;
The tears and fears of all the years,
Are met in thee tonight….

JINGLE BELLS
Jingle shells,
Jingle shells,
Jingle all the way,
O what fun
It is to ride,
On a B-52 on its way…

“Sir, why have you called us,” interrupted Albright after having loudly cleared her throat for the fourth time. She was worried sick, wondering if the Chief had finally flipped his lid. Her theory of American exceptionalism was clearly on trial. Bill turned to her with a smile. “Tell Cohen to order a strong, sustained series of airstrikes on Iraq. Pronto!” he said, and went back to his singing.