Day 709

(May be sung to We Three Kings of Orient Are)

 

Donald Trump is ranting once more.

He is shaken down to his core.

Mueller’s counting; crimes are mounting.

Will he show Trump the door?

 

Oh…Donald Trump must quake with fear.

Democrats are filled with cheer.

Prosecution, destitution,

Trump must fear that both are near.

 

Donald’s undershorts have turned brown.

Robert Mueller keeps bearing down.

Bob’s conclusion on collusion

May cost Trump his royal crown.

Oh…Robert Mueller paws and gnaws,

Punches Donald in the schnozz,

Trump’s discussions with the Russians

May be one impeachment clause.

 

One more place where Trump’s on defense.

Democrats won’t pay for his fence.

Trump’s frustrated and castrated

So his gut roils and ferments.

 

Oh…Trump said Mexico would pay.

They told him, “No way, Jose!

“We pay nada, no tostada.”

Democrats all shout, “Ole’!”

 

Donald pulled the wall from his ass.

Trust your gut; that’s what it will pass.

Crowd reaction, satisfaction,

His base cheers Trump passing gas.

 

Oh…Trump told us he’d build a wall.

Democrats intend to stall.

They’ve made it clear, in the New Year,

Trump will get no wall at all.