Twas the night before Christmas at BDCP,
But their eggnogs were downed amidst much misery.
Their heads were hung low, their brows were all sweated,
‘Cause it looked like their EIR wouldn’t be vetted.

Six years or more they had worked through the night,
To make us believe the twin tunnels were right.
When pressed to explain things, they just hemmed and hawed,
Cause they knew all along what they planned was a fraud.

Then out on the Delta there arose such a clatter,
The people looked ’round to see what was the matter.
It was old Jerry Meral. He yelped like an otter:
“I promise we’ll never take any new water.”

The people yelled back, “We’ve heard that before
And the MWD says they want a lot more.
The co-equal goals will never pass muster.
And the fish screens have lost their original luster.

“Not so,” said a voice in the black of the night,
“We’re driven by law, so we’ll do this thing right.”
It was cranky Phil Isenberg, passing the buck.
‘Cause his new Delta Plan was mired in muck.

“Now Cowin, now Meral, now Laird,” he called out,
“Our BDCP is fast losing its clout.
Our castle is crumbling, so don’t hesitate
Come forward and save us before it’s too late.”

So out on the hustings, a few of them went
Aware of the mission on which they were sent
To scare all the people and play to their fears
Such a circus the people had not seen in years!

Up Cowin, up Meral, up Nemeth and Laird
Conjure up something to get people scared
Tell ’em their water is likely to stop
Tell ’em their faucets won’t yield a drop

Tell ’em the twin tunnels need to be built,
And old Shasta Dam raised up to the hilt.
Say habitat restoration is real,
And for $54-billion?–it’s a fabulous steal.

Tell ’em anything you want just to get their support,
Or the BDCP will have to abort.
Go out and make like the twin tunnels shine,
Or the next thing you know you’ll be standing in line.

And then, in a twinkling, it all became clear,
The people understood what was happening here.
It was all plain enough to make their eyes goggle,
The BDCP was another boondoggle.

Phooey! Cried the people, what comes out of your mouth,
Are simply excuses to send water south.
You don’t care at all what we have to say,
The “fix” has been in from the very first day.

The “public be damned” is our governor’s cry,
The fact is we’re gonna be left high and dry.
The governor’s legacy is really what matters,
And he doesn’t mind leaving the whole state in tatters.

Then all of a sudden there appeared in the sky,
A silver-white sleigh hovering high and near by.
It was Governor Brown who is under the gun,
To prove that he’s able to “get (expletive) done.”

“Listen, my friends,” said old Jerry Brown,
Reading the words his wife had set down.
“I need to say something I hope you’ll remember.
I’ll be running again come next November.”

“The south has two-thirds of the votes that I covet,
So if they need more water, I might send them all of it.
I don’t care if the north doesn’t like me,
It’s the south that will help me build up my legacy.

“You can have all the protests you’re planning to mount,
The votes in the north state really don’t count.
It makes little difference to me how you pout,
It’s politics, friends, and you’re counted out.”

Jerry picked up the reins and let out a whistle,
His reindeer stretched out and were off like a missile.
“Up Cowin, up Meral, up Isenberg, too,
It’s late and we have to get back to the zoo!”