Heil, Herr Fred or Dies Ist Das Search

Dies ist Das Donjon where Don John, Don, rocks.

     Dies ist Das Storeroom secured with new locks

in Die Depths of Das Donjon where Don John, Don, rocks.

    Dies ist Das Safe hiding un-escrowed stocks

that squats in Das Storeroom secured with new locks

in Die Depths of Das Donjon where Don John, Don, rocks.

     Dies sind assortments of unsorted Socks

sitting stashed in Das Safe hiding un-escrowed stocks

that squats in Das Storeroom secured with new locks

in Die Depths of Das Donjon where Don John, Don, rocks.     

     Dies sind Das Surfeits of classified docs,

some seen stuffed in assortments of unsorted Socks

sitting stashed in Das Safe hiding un-escrowed stocks

that squats in Das Storeroom secured with new locks

in Die Depths of Das Donjon where Don John, Don, rocks.

     Dies...? Die Container Crates -- each a big box --

spotted shelt'ring Die Surfeits of classified docs,

some seen stuffed in assortments of unsorted Socks

sitting stashed in Das Safe hiding un-escrowed stocks

that squats in Das Storeroom secured with new locks

in Die Depths of Das Donjon where Don John, Don, rocks.

     Dies sind Die Feds, making nary Das Sound

as they, armed with Das Warrant, go searching around

for Die packing Container Crates -- each a big box --

spotted shelt'ring Die Surfeits of classified docs,

some seen stuffed in assortments of unsorted Socks

sitting stashed in Das Safe hiding un-escrowed stocks

that squats in Das Storeroom secured with new locks

in Die Depths of Das Donjon where Don John, Don, rocks.

     Dies ist His Honor who issues Das Warrant

requested by Justice, which loosens Das Torrent

of FBI agents, who make not Das Sound

as they, armed with Das Warrant, go searching around

for Die packing Container Crates -- each a big box --

spotted shelt'ring Die Surfeits of classified docs,

some seen stuffed in assortments of unsorted Socks

sitting stashed in Das Safe hiding un-escrowed stocks

that squats in Das Storeroom secured with new locks

in Die Depths of Das Donjon where Don John, Don, rocks.

     Dies ist Das Nation where holds court the judge

who gives Das Green Light (with no hint of Das Grudge

or political bias) and issues Das Warrant

requested by Justice, which loosens Das Torrent

of FBI agents, who make not Das Sound

as they, armed with Das Warrant, go searching around

for Die packing Container Crates -- each a big box --

spotted shelt'ring  Die Surfeits of classified docs,

some seen stuffed in assortments of unsorted Socks

sitting stashed in Das Safe hiding un-sescrowed stocks

that squats in Das Storeroom secured with new locks

in Die Depths of Das Donjon where Don John, Don, rocks.

     Dies ist Don Don John whose administration

endangers, imperils and hazards Das Nation,

Das Balkanized Country where holds court Der Judge

who gives Das Green Light (with no hint of Das Grudge

or political bias) and issues Das Warrant

requested by Justice, which loosens Das Torrent

of FBI agents, who make not Das Sound

as they, armed with Das Warrant, go searching around

for Die packing Container Crates -- each a big box --

spotted shelt'ring Die Surfeits of classified docs,

some seen stuffed in assortments of unsorted Socks

sitting stashed in the safe hiding un-escrowed stocks

that squats in Das Storeroom secured with new locks

in Die Depths of Das Donjon where Don Don John rocks.

     Dies ist Der Domnus, Das craven old Con

who peculates millions while siring Der Don,

who swaps love for money -- Das poor Pro Quo Quid --

and, thus "Kruppted," winds up wid Das oversized Id

and Das self-serving Ego which hazards Das Nation

(conspiring, 'tis true, with his administration),

Das Balkanized Country where holds court Der Judge

who gives Das Green Light (with no hint of Das Grudge

or political bias) and issues Das Warrant

requested by Justice, which loosens Das Torrent

of FBI agents, who make not Das Sound

as they, armed with Das Warrant, go searching around

for Die packing Container Crates -- each a big box --

spotted shelt'ring Das Surfeits of classified docs,

some seen stuffed in assortments of unsorted Socks

sitting stashed in Das Safe hiding un-escrowed stocks

that squats in Das Storeroom secured with new locks

in Die Depths of Das Donjon where Don Don John rocks.

...But Sombody's Gotta Do It.

It's up to me which words go where:
this word goes here; that word goes there.
Some po'ms grow big; some po'ms stay small.
Hey! I'm The Poet, after all.

Though aping Edgar's "...nothing more,"

I mean to say there's things galore.

It's what they label 'irony.'

And I'm The Poet, don'cha see...?

I Emily's "I could not stop..."

restate, for I'm The Nation's Scop.

I Walt's "Myself I sing" re-shout.

That I'm The Poet there's no doubt.

Some po'ms are sung; some po'ms are penn'd.

And I'm The Poet, in the end.

Yes, I'm The Poet, come what may,

though I've not got a thing to say.