'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the jail
Not an inmate was stirring, 'cept those who made bail
Phone calls were made to the girlfriends with care,
In hopes commissary money soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in Juvie hall;
Including that one kid stuck in there since fall;
And the sheriff in his armor, and the cops in their cars,
Sat down in Old Town half-heartedly watching the bars.
When out by the Justice Center there arose such a clatter,
The horse cops sprang from their stable to see what was the matter.
To Chapman Square the Chief, he flew like a flash,
The police union president cackled and began counting cash,
Triple overtime for holidays the union did know,
Would come falling upon them like a rare Portland snow.
From New York and Ferguson or some catalyst,
Appeared a miniature protest of eight anarchists,
With leader in a mask, anonymous Guy Fawkes,
The police knew in a moment they must close off the blocks
More rapid than streetcars more protesters came,
The ringleader chanted and shouted, and called out the names:
"No more Chasses! Nor Kendras! Nor Billy Wayne Simms!
No Tasing, no shooting of black people on whims!
To the Justice Center porch! To Pioneer Square!
Go away cops to your suburban lairs!"
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, they mount to the sky;
So up to Fourth Avenue they marched and they walked
With the crowd so large, the police force at first balked—
But then, in a crackle, from the ice cream truck’s top
Portland’s finest began loudly to just order “STOP.”
The crowd pulled up their hoodies and was turning around,
When down Yamhill Street, more cops came with a bound.
Armor and masks, from their head to their feet,
With big plastics shields the protesters' heads would soon meet.
A bundle of toys they had hung on their belt,
With nice stinging batons for a Christmas day welt.
Their eyes, how they twinkled! The handcuffs, how shiny!
The crowd felt much weaker, unarmed and so tiny!
The crowd stepped back and began to split into two
The precinct captain looked around and knew what to do
The Starbucks cup held tight in his hand,
“Launch the smoke,” he cried out with a voice of command;
He had a big fancy badge and a belly of Kevlar
That shook when he laughed, watching tear gas from afar.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
An old protester laughed when he saw him, in spite of himself;
For the captain’s unprotected eyes and face turning red
Soon gave the crowd to know they had nothing to dread;
For the captain had not a bandana nor a mask to wear
And when the wind shifted and poisoned his air
Around the city officials and police chief gas rose,
They began crying out “My face” and “My nose!”
They sprang to their cars, to his team the chief gave a whistle,
And away all the cops flew like the down of a thistle.
The speaker truck exclaimed, ere it drove out of sight —
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”