Day 1438, God Rest You, Brooding, Donald Trump  (1)

 

God rest you, brooding Donald Trump;

You lost Election Day.

The voters cast you on the dump;

You have been thrown away.

Hallucinating your triumph,

Is madness on display.

Oh!  Tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy,

You’ll be gone and the whole world will shout for joy.

 

As we say our goodbyes to you,

Your base may shed a tear.

Though some of them may cry, “Boo hoo,”

The rest of us will cheer.

Indictments now may stick like glue;

You have all those to fear.

They bring tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy.

When you’re in jail, the world will jump for joy.

 

 Your bid to kill democracy

Has been flushed down the drain.

Your crooks and kakistocracy

Reflect a fevered brain.

Your bid for foul autocracy

Has all been done in vain.

Oh!  Tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy,

That you failed has been our comfort and our joy.

 

Ignoring all expert advice,

You let Covid 19

Run rampant and we paid the price;

It’s been a gruesome scene.

You seemed to think it should suffice

That we have a vaccine.

It’s too early for comfort and for joy, comfort and joy.

When you’re finally gone, then we will jump for joy.

 

(1)  May be sung to, “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen.”