At last the Bard of the Bayou appears
Tidings of Love ‘Twas the night before Christmas in Faubourg-St. John And not a creature was stirring, at home or beyond. The stockings that hung by the chimneys were frayed With thousands laid-off and the rest underpaid, And tucked into spots where they wouldn’t be taken Were cookies for Santa in case of a break-in. The kids dreamt of sugar plums dancing with stars, But the dreams of the grown-ups were really bizarre: The mayor…