So we’ve inaugurated him
the Jingo Kid, ol’ Cocaine Slim
to serve again as our great chief.
Despite the obvious belief
of many folks that he’s the spawn
of Satan. Soon he will be gone,
and who will fill his king-sized shoes?
That we’re in sad shape is no news,
and four years hence things will be worse
fed evil pap from this wet nurse.
I wonder, though, if just for spite
the constant scheming God-filled right
won’t train a Democrat or two
to follow on the Shrub, Part Deux;
and hoist some harmless seeming Left
upon a nation, now bereft,
its sense of truth and honor gone,
its holy cause, freedom, a pawn
used as a ploy to sell your way
on next inauguration day.
I’ll end with this, and make it brief:
next time you pick our chosen chief
be sure to check at your hairline
for three tattooed inverted nines.
22 JAN 2005
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