December 21, The January 6th Report (1)
Whose crimes these were, we think we know.
The Donald will deny them, though.
Support for him we’ll surely hear
From those that Donald still can snow.
The Donald may start feeling queer
To sense indictments drawing near
He’s feeling worse than Kari Lake
This darkest evening of the year.
His voice and hands will start to shake,
For this time, there is no mistake.
The broom of justice starts its sweep;
And Teflon armor starts to flake.
The sewage where Trump swims is deep
From solemn oaths he did not keep.
So nightmares will disturb his sleep.
And nightmares will disturb his sleep.
- Apologies to Robert Frost for bastardizing “Stopping By Woods On a Snowy Evening.”