His MAGA baseball cap is red.
Or else just hair sits there instead:
there's rarely nothing ON his head,
tho' often nothing IN it. -- ed.
All cred he MAY have had has fled.
His vices stretch from A to Zed.
Most ev'rything around him's dead.
How sad 'twas just his ear that bled.
He's sev'ral blondine bimbos wed.
(I discount those beneath his bed.)
"I say," says he, "stuff Hitler said."
(At least Herr Hitler's said to've read.)
His endless ties are red as well.
He lathers up with tanning gel
then tweets, "I EARNED THAT PEACE NOBELL."
(He, sadly, never learn'd to spell.)
He'll presidential pardons sell.
The Gettysburg Address as well...
...and try to pawn the Liberty Bell.
No guard rails slow his march to hell.
The business suits he dons are blue.
His go-to...? "What would Putin do...?"
Plus ditto Netanyahu, nu...?
(He's also awf'lly quick to sue.)
He blathers how his blood's blue, too.
superior to "you-know-who."
He takes Mohammed Salman's cue,
and mimics stuff Roy Cohn would do.
The house he occupies is white.
He'll leave it in a woeful sight.
He says stuff Mussolini might.
He really isn't very bright.
His Pampers, large, are likewise white.
He soils 'em, spoils a few each night
while posting such outrageous shite
and sliding ever further right.
CODA
Once white, the house now's gilded gold.
His lies approach ten-thousand-fold.
His mind's made up; he won't be told.
I fear the center cannot hold.
His Pentel -- like his soul -- is black,
miswielded by the maniac
who thinks Iran is call'd "Iraq"
and craves an ever-Bigger Mac.
So: how'll we take our country back...?
