On the ‘morrow when we rise and the sun shines through the curtain

Will we see clear sky or snow? Who knows! Of one thing, we are certain.

For, this year, we have been so good, so civic, and so civil, 

Our stump speeches drew shock and awe, we spurted little drivel

 

We’ve voted every chance we got, and upheld every law

And showed our love for all the land, from Maine to Arkansas.

And so, when we arise today and down the stairs we drift 

‘Twill only be pure joy we feel as we search for our gift

 

For last night it was left there by a man who’s naught but nice

A man who came from Bangor, Maine, a man who was our vice

He travels to each person’s house, leaves gifts, then goes aramblin’

None other than  Lincoln’s first vice, beloved Hann'bal Hamlin

 

But that is on the ‘morrow, now ‘tis but the night before

When we are tucked inside our beds and lay our heads once more

But this year I have tiptoed out to slip and slide and sneak

For of the vice I yearn to steal a sight, a view, a peak

 

I hide behind the stump speech stump, and crouch below the eagle

And pray my actions do not give a label of illegal

And just as I am inching forth, I hear their footsteps near

The door bursts open and with it comes joyous laughs of cheer

 

There’s Eldridge Gerry, Garret Hobart, and Spiro Agnew

George Clinton, Schuyler Colfax, and of course there’s Dan Quayle too.

As vices the advice is to be there to lend a hand

To help and aid, assist, support under Hamlin’s command

 

And in walks Hannibal Hamlin, the leader of them all,

And with him is a bag of gifts, a sturdy one to haul

He leaves one ‘neath my cherry tree and then catches my eye

“Good Presidents’ Day, to you, my dear!” and then he waved goodbye

 

Off he went into the night, his vices six in tow

To visit all the people and with gifts he would bestow

With a smile from ear to ear into my bed I did crawl

To wake on the ‘morrow to yell with cheer “Good Presidents’ Day to all!”