Repost: Tammany Hall, Folks!

His aim...? To appall, folks.

He’s framing a wall, folks.
His tweets...? Folderol, folks.
His bleat, "I don't fall, folks,
don't stumble, don't sprawl, folks."
His hands are so-o-o-o-o-o small, folks.
So: how many justices might he install, folks...?

His gazes ooze gall, folks.
His phrases...? A squall, folks.
He answers folks’ call, folks.
His folks tend to brawl, folks.
And drawl with a “y’all,” folks.
And think he's King Saul, folks.
So: which third-world dictators does he enthrall, folks...?

An indifferent pol, folks,
he claims wherewithal, folks.
His hair doesn't loll, folks
He combs with a maul, folks.
His brand makes a haul, folks.
He’s having a ball, folks.
So: when will his “telling it like it is” pall, folks...?

His moll is a doll, folks.
His kids own the mall, folks.
His Hancock's a scrawl, folks.
His tales are all tall, folks.
“He’s nuts!” some folks bawl, folks.
Thus folks mustn't stall, folks.
So: what must folks do to make Drumpf cry, “Thaneeah...
thaneeah...thaneeah...thaneeah...that's all, folks!"...?

Repost: The Loves of A Lady: A Nonsense Reggae

Filthy Captain Irv Le Smoler

fill'd de capp'd 'n' nerveless molar 

of de Lady Mondegreen 

dat gal what laid 'im on de green.
  
Head Doctor Juan Dufore Wiecks-Paigh
had dock'd her one to four week's pay. 
Nex' day, de Lady Mondegreen, 
impov'rish'd, laid ‘im on de green.
   
CDI Ronnie N. “Bjorn” Cooke, 
seedy Iranian-born cook, 
ador'd de Lady Mondegreen,
dat gal what laid ‘im on de green.

Vice Lord Al "Owen" Tudor-Welles 
was low'r'd, alone, into de wells, 
de wells o’ Lady Mondegreen,
dat gal what laid 'im on de green!