SICK AT HEART
All the signs
Middle East a sarcoma
It’s clearly Stage Four
POTUS POOTS FORTH ANOTHER
“Wake up, Pop, you have to meet the press.”
“What is it this time? Why can’t I just tweet?”
“This Harvey thing’s too big. You have to meet.
And be careful not to look like you couldn’t care less.”
“Why don’t you go, Ivanka, in a slinky low-cut dress?
Distract ’em. Let your booty take the heat.”
“But you’ll be on TV, centre stage, comfy seat.”
“Well in that case … Oh no! Look! My hair’s a mess.”
Now he’s in make-up sat polishing his schtick
And figuring out ways he can stroll off with some big money.
“I’ll have him deported.” “I’ll make Mexico build a big wall.”
“I’ll nuke him.” “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”
Trouble is while thousands are suffering yer bumpkin’s so thick
He thinks “this Harvey thing” is an invisible six-foot bunny.
NOTE Any prurient innuendo or double entendre is fully intentional.
This one’s for Audrey (and many another).
I hit the road
It hit me back
We paused a mo
Now here we go