Donald Digs Dictatoheads

I’m “Oh My God!” for al-Assad, though Adolf’s still my boy.
“Il Duch” (Benito)? Neat! Though cats call’d Castro never cloy.
(Ceausescu? Him I’d rescue. See? My minions I'd deploy.)

I dig Duterte’s dastardlys and Erdogan’s eclat.
Francisco faded wa-a-a-a-ay to soon. I love Gaddafi’s hat.
(I’m into hats: my hair’s a hat.) Hussein’s hat’s where it’s at.

I’m into Idi. Id’s a sweetie! Uncle Joe, as well.
The Jongs (-il, -un) and Kraprayoon: you boyos bang my bell.
Hey, Leonid! (I miss ya, kid – more since your Sov’ets fell.)

My man Mugabe! (Hey, there, Bobby: keep Zimbabwe swingy!)
My pal Nikita’s senoritas let you grab their thingy!
The two Okellos? Lovely fellows. Pol Pot? Kinda clingy.

Nguyen Ai Quoc? Hey, Doc: you rock! Say! Have you met Raul?
Sese Seko’s on the take? Oh, well: he’s no one’s fool.
Tafari (who became Selassie): that man’s born to rule.

The Urbans, Popes? You’re not the dopes some make you out to be.

Vargas? Win? Good friends you’ve been – like mother’s milk to me.
Nor can I say too much today about my buddy Xi.

Yo! Yayah Kahn! Yeah, you’re “me mon.”  If you can’t do it, who?

And Mao Zedong? No, folks aren’t wrong: I cherish chairmen, too.
And I’ll outdo ‘em all – each poison pol – before I’m through!