‘Twas weeks before Christmas, and all through the city
Pawtucket was festive, but would soon get gritty.
Decorations were placed on street corners with care,
And a crèche was erected; the park wasn’t bare.
The figures of plastic all snug in the snow
A four decade tradition, no changes to show.
But when Mr. Donnelly went out on his watch,
No one knew that he planned to take things up a notch.
When through litigation there arose such a clatter,
Clerks rushed from their cubicles, cried “What’s the matter?”
“The Crèche!” Someone shouted, “It’s under attack!”
They rushed to their windows; one threw out his back.
The sun on the breast of the snow in the park
Cast the shadows of Joseph and a well-meaning nark:
Who said “what to my wond’ring eyes should appear,
But a manger in public where secularity’s dear!”
With a curled constitution, so thorough and true,
Donnelly spread the word and concerns grew and grew.
More rapid than eagles his rights so they came
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
“Now, Lemon! Now, Fourteenth! Wall of Separation!
On, Justice! On, Choice! On, Freedom of Religion!
To the Court of the District! Then the Court of the Land!
For religion we love, but the Bill of Rights stands!”
When papers confound a District Court’s eyes
And meet with an obstacle, to SCOTUS they rise.
So up to the Supremes the litigants flew
With a briefcase of arguments and the ACLU.
And then, in a flurry, was heard in the chamber
The hemming and hawing, and no one was tamer.
Once they’d argued, objected, and Opened and Closed
Justice Berger emerged, and he sniffled his nose.
He was dressed all in black, from his head to his shoe
And his clothes were all ironed, the decision he knew.
A bundle of papers he held in his hand
And he looked like a prophet who might rule the land.
His eyes—how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his words might be scary.
His droll little mouth drawn up like a ruling,
Some attorneys were bashful, and others were drooling:
They wanted the power held tight in his teeth,
But for now they just hoped to have favor bequeathed.
He slowly sipped water, then let down his gavel
A moment of silence: Which side would unravel?
Donnelly shuddered and Lynch won the day
The crèche would remain, all thanks to a sleigh:
The issue was context, what’s far and what’s near—
Baby Jesus was fine if alongside reindeer.
In public and private the crèche we allow
When surrounded by ornaments, and lights that wow;
If Rudolph and Santa are nearby the Manger
The city has not put the Constitution in danger.
The court may have decided to favor Sir Lynch,
But Donnelly should not be made out a Grinch;
In the end, why do we care about this decision?