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Dr. Fauci’s House Call December 25, 2020

Posted by nrhatch in Humor, Joke, Poetry.
17 comments

By Kevin A. Wilson (with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)

‘Twas some days before Christmas—how many I’m not sure
(The days ran together; everything was a blur).
All the houses were locked down from COVID-19,
With everyone wishing for the promised vaccine.

The children were nestled and sleeping just fine.
They were all tuckered out from their classes online.
And mamma in her kerchief and I in my cap
Had just sanitized our hands and hung up our masks

The year had been hard. We were due a vacation
But the thing wanted most? Emergency use authorization
Then out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I assumed it was another 2020 disaster.

I ran to the window and put on my mask,
But what would I see? I was too scared to ask.
The neighbors were quiet and socially distant,
Awaiting the time they’d be COVID resistant.

But despite travel bans, there then did appear
A miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.
But this wasn’t Santa. His gut wasn’t paunchy.
It was the trusted presence of Anthony Fauci.

More rapid than eagles, at warp speed they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now Pfizer! Now Sanofi! Now Johnson & Johnson!
“On Moderna! On BioNTech! On Adaptive and Amgen!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Now vaccinate, vaccinate, vaccinate all!”

As a virus expelled by a cough or a sneeze
When it meets plexiglass rises up on the breeze;
So up to the house-top the pharma all flew,
With the sleigh full of hope, and Dr. Fauci, too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Fauci came with a bound.

He was dressed in a suit, as was always his way,
And his neatly cut hair was a smart silver-grey.
A chart in one hand, a syringe in the other,
And a medical bag—a gift from his mother.

The wisdom in his eyes and the knowledge in his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
With his reassuring smile covered up with a mask,
His no-nonsense style led him straight to the task.

He sprung to my side as I rolled up my sleeve,
And he stuck in the vaccine as quick as you please.
He flew to the bedroom, gave mamma a shot,
Then vaxxed both our kids without waking them up.

Inoculations complete, he returned to the chimney,
And gave me a pamphlet about what he put in me.
Then raising his finger but not touching his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

“C’mon, team!” he said. “We’ve a great opportunity.
If we vaccinate more we can reach herd immunity!”
Then he yelled back to me, as the sleigh quickly rose,
“I’ll be back in a fortnight for the follow-up dose.”

Aah . . . that’s the ticket!