Day 717  

(May be sung to I’ll Fly Away, by Albert E. Brumley, with appropriate apologies.) (1)

 

Some glad morning, when Trump’s term is o’er,

We’ll shout, “Hooray!”

Joyously, in chorus, shore to shore,

We’ll shout, “Hooray!”

We’ll shout, “Hooray! Oh, glory!”

“Hip, hip, hooray!”

Truth and justice will return once more.

We’ll shout, “Hooray!”

 

“Christians” will kneel down as they repent.

We’ll shout, “Hooray!”

They will see Trump was not heaven-sent.

We’ll shout, “Hooray!”

We’ll shout, “Hooray! Oh, glory,”

Hip, hip, hooray!”

Facts and data finally made a dent.

We’ll shout, “Hooray!”

 

We will lose a cause for comedy.

But that’s OK.

We will see returning comity.

We’ll shout, “Hooray!”

We’ll shout, “Hooray! Oh, glory!”

“Hip, hip, hooray!”

Fox News will dissolve in bankruptcy.

We’ll shout, “Hooray!”

 

Women will all do a victory dance.

They’ll shout, “Hooray!”

They’ll take Donald’s office and his pants.

We’ll shout, “Hooray!”

We’ll shout, “Hooray! Oh, glory!”

“Hip, hip, hooray!”

Pantsless Trump reveals a huge expanse.

We’ll shout, “Oy weh!”

 

What will Robert Mueller’s group compile?

We’ll shout, “Hooray!”

Might Trump then be sent to durance vile? (2)

We’ll shout, “Hooray!”

We’ll shout, “Hooray!  Oh, glory!”

“Hip, hip, hooray!”

Hillary might even crack a smile.

“We’ll shout, “Hooray!”

 

(1)  Albert E. Brumley, 1905-1977, a prolific gospel song composer, who composed in shape notes.

(2)  Durance vile, an almost archaic term meaning a long prison sentence.  In Trump’s case, a term worthy of resurrection.