‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through City Hall,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a crawl.
The budget was hung by the chimney with care,
Knowing that no head tax soon would appear.

The aldermen were nestled all snug in their wards,
With visions of restraint and reaping the rewards.
Mayor Branjo in his red t-shirt, and his CTU cap,
Had settled his brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the LaSalle there arose such a clatter,
He sprang from his desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the window he flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

With courageous leaders, so lively and quick,
He knew in a moment his tax plan was licked.
Faster than the CTA, in their votes they came,
And they whistled and shouted and called out by name:

Now, Reilly! Now, Dowell! Now, Sposato and Beale!
On, Tabares! On, Lopez! On, Quinn, on their heel!
To the 5th floor! Take it straight to city hall!
Dash away head tax! Dash away small ball!

And then, in a twinkling, he heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each steadfast hoof.
As he drew in his head and was turning around,
Down the chimney the aldermen came with a bound.

They were dressed in fine suits, from their head to their foot,
And their clothes were untarnished by CTU soot.
A bundle of savings they’d flung on their back,
And they looked like wise stewards just opening their pack.

Their eyes how they twinkled! Their dimples, how merry!
Their cheeks were like roses, their noses like cherries!
They rejected the demands of the union so droll,
With robocalls and ads that took quite a toll.

The CTU grumbled, with demands ever high,
Tax more, more, and more, reaching up to the sky.
But the aldermen stood firm, with backbone and grit,
Passing their own budget, a responsible fit.

Johnson’s head tax was dead, no per-employee fee,
No job killing levy on companies free.
With pension funds bolstered, and no downgrade fear,
A sensible plan for a prosperous year.

The mayor spoke not a word, but backed down in defeat,
No veto to issue, his loss was complete.
The aldermen praised for their courageous fight,
Saved Chicago’s future on this festive night.

They sprang to their wards, to their teams gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard them exclaim, ’ere they drove out of sight:

Merry Christmas to Chicago, and to all a good night!