Night Before Solstice

'Twas the Night Before Solstice

Twas the Night before Solstice and all through the land,
Not a politician was stirring, thanks be to Rand.
The essays were chosen and placed with great care,
Hoping converts at our web sites soon would be there.

The Advocates were nestled, all snug in their beds,
While persuasive arguments danced in their heads;
With my partner at his computer and I at my craft,
Writing essays to convince the world we were not daft.

When out on the TV there arose such a yammer,
I feared for the worst and barely could stammer.
Away to the TV, I flew in a snit,
Turned down the volume and gathered my wit.

The glow of the screen gave an eerie cast
To strange scenes unfolding leaving me aghast;
For what to my befuddled brain should be seen
But eight libertarian writers, what could this mean?

With a commanding director so awesome and grand,
I knew in a nanosec, it must be St. Rand;
More rapid than pledge breaks, the writers they came,
And she harumphed and whistled and called them by name.

Now, LUDWIG! Now, FRIEDRICH! now MURRAY and LYSANDER!
On ISABEL, on ROSE, on NATHAN and BARBARA!
To the end of the chapter! To the curtain call;
Now fade away, fade away, fade away all!

To my partner, I cried, you won’t believe this,
Oh do come quickly, this, a sight not to miss.
He gawked and he gasped at the amazing scene;
Libertarians running rampant, ever so keen.

And so striking Ayn looked, so daring and smart,
As she drew more great books out of her cart;
More writers they came, George, Tibor, and Roy,
We now surely wondered what was this ploy.

The writers so clever, so thorough and cool,
It was all we could do not to sit there and drool.
All of them winked at us, each and every one,
Whatever this dream, it was way too much fun.

They danced and they danced, around the TV they went,
We watched mesmerized, it was all time well-spent.
As Ayn directed them, we gazed so enthralled
In scene after scene, the ideas, they called.

Ayn’s eyes, how they twinkled, her smile was so cheery,
Of these wonderful ideas we would never grow weary.
She was dressed in leather from her head to her feet;
No other writer could be such a treat.

When this strange dream was over, we were quite sad,
But of this treat for our minds, we were so glad.
Then Ayn whistled and, throwing on her jacket,
She hopped in a Mercedes and tossed us a packet.

Books in full color, the selection amazed us,
Atlas Shrugged and Human Action, how we did fuss;
Sure, we knew we were dreaming, this could not be,
But it was fun while it lasted, this we could see.

And we hallucinated her saying as she sped away with a cough,
“YOU GUYS DRANK WAY TOO MUCH EGGNOG, KNOCK IT OFF.”