[dellinger63]

Courtesy of John Kass Chicago Tribune

'Twas the night before Fitzmas and all through the house

The federals were listening for the sound of a mouse.

The wiretaps were hung by the chimneys with care

With sugarplum visions of the rats they would snare.

And I in my tracksuit with Patti in bed

With visions of "bleepin' gold" running through our heads

When out on the lawn, there arose such a herald,

I knew in an instant it must be Fitzgerald.

For a second, I thought this must be in jest,

Then the telephone said, "You're under arrest."

I rushed to the window and what did appear?

A sled full of subpoenas pulled by eight tiny reindeer.

More rapid than Outfit bookies, the coursers they came

And Patrick did whistle, and call them by name.

"Now Rezko! Now Kelly! Now Amrish and Stu!

On Wyma! On Harris! On Rahm and Ata too!"

And with a winsome grand jury so lively and quick

Jimmy called Genson, 'cause I'm in the thick.

Then I drew in my head and was turning around

And there stood Fitzgerald, who made not a sound.

But with a wink of his eye and a twist of his head

He let me know that I had plenty to bleepin' dread.

He pointed his finger alongside his nose,

I told him, "Hang loose," but up the chimney he rose.

I started to spill because I am no tool,

But then Eddie and Jimmy said, "Shut up you fool!"

Then Patti awoke all sweetness and light,

"You're bleeping holding up that bleeping Cubs bleep,

Right?"

Fitz sprang to his sleigh and the reindeer did bristle

While off in the distance, sang the jailhouse whistle.

I heard him exclaim to all within sight,

"Merry Fitzmas to all, except those I indict."