Day 981, Impeachment Clouds (1) 

 

Republicans supporting Trump can sense it on the wind.

Impeachment clouds are gathering, for once more Donald sinned.

This time it is extortion; that’s a criminal offense.

And everyone can see it but the toadies and the dense.

 

Predictions are a hurricane of category five,

The biggest to hit Washington, which no one may survive.

Pelosi has the votes today and we know she can add.

And Donald Trump will make it worse: the mob boss who went bad.

 

Yi pi yi a, yi pi yi  o,

The storm clouds in the sky.

 

With help from Putin, Donald was elected in sixteen.

And now he’s shaking down Ukraine, a standard, gangster scene.

“Investigate Joe Biden,” that’s the quid; cash is the quo.

“For I am losing in the polls; it’s time to hit Joe low.”

 

Yi pi yi a, yi pi yi oh.

Impeachment clouds the sky.

 

Did someone wear a wire while the boss put on the squeeze?

For someone blew a whistle, and Trump felt his heartbeat freeze.

The sphincters of his sycophants all twitched, then opened wide.

And they all soiled their underpants, they were so horrified.

 

Yi pi yi a, yi pi yi oh,

Impeachment drawing nigh.

 

Reporters find Republicans; they can’t hide though they try.

They say they haven’t read reports but we all know they lie.

If they don’t change their ways today, how many will survive?

Elections will be coming soon.  Will they all take a dive?

 

Yi pi yi a, yi pi yi oh,

Impeachment, who will fry?

 

And now we’ve found a cover-up, like Nixon’s Watergate.

Along with Rudy, Pence and Barr are pondering their fate.

Pompeo also implicated, Graham just a whore,

How many will go down with Trump like Nixon’s folks before?

 

Yi pi yi a, yi pi yi oh,

Impeachment, drawing nigh.

Impeachment , who will fry?

Impeachment, who will die?

 

(1)  May be sung to Ghost Riders in the Sky, written by Stan Jones in 1948.  My favorite version is the Burl Ives’ recording of 1949. The original song had four verses.  This parody has six which you may choose a la carte.