In Need Of Medication. When told a nasty airborne disease Was a'wafting in from the China Seas Actually, PresiDon didn't appear to much care, Factually, he adopted a laughingly cavalier air. When Faucci's esteemed team gave a damning report Donny dismissed it and them with a derisive snort, And that's when the Department of Infectious Diseases Knew they'd be better directing their pleas to Jesus. Though in their professional opinion covid was here to stay Doctor Don proscribed that the virus would fade... away... Don miserably failed to see a pandemic in the making Or his inaction would lead to a
Greatgrave undertaking. Other than stopping Mueller sniffing 'round his affairs Don's real interest remains in healthy stocks and shares, The man is unhealthily invested in private enterprise; Who cares if the world outside Wall Street lives or dies? So for months now, all while the deadly virus raged Trump soaked up the atmosphere in the rallies he staged, Showering his crowd with promises, left 'em in GreaT cheer, They couldn't wait to pass his message on to their near and dear. He loved how they had simply taken him to their heart While feeling no need or desire to stay a good six feet apart, As he, safe and smug behind his mask of delusional self-belief Believed no virus could dare pass on to the Commander-in-Chief. Roaming freely, flitting and flying all over the place, Pushing his agenda, getting Right in everyones face, Disavowing taking a knee (unless you're using the Force) Turning all rational debate into anti-social intercourse. Till came a gathering, the infamous Rose Garden party Where Don failed to smell when someone cut the havarti, Immediately the question of a toxic President arose, A quick Q-tip test positively getting right up Don's nose. Don and his wife were laid low in their sick bed, Don felt a pounding upside his boogery thick head; Got the chills, got a hot fever and runny snotty cough, Perhaps he had been ill-advised to leave his mask off? But Don isn't one to lie quietly back and take Doctors orders, He's not bound to remain idling behind Walter Reed's borders, There's an election to rigrun so Don busts out of quarantine! Why, does he want to be seen in the back of a black limousine? With all the best polls (excluding Hannity and Friends) Signalling that after four years his GreaTness now ends, He needs to leave us a lasting legacy, on top of his border wall So he's commissioned a portrait so as to look down on us all. (The forty-fifth President will join that esteemed list Of Presidents who, once gone, won't be sorely missed, 'Twould be a marvel if Don ever joined the Fantastic Four- Those icons standing stone-faced up on Mount Rushmore.) He's going at warp speed ensuring his fine face won't be forgot- In case in future he'll be known by the number on his mug shot- An artistic genius might possibly portray Don as just badly painted But even hallowed Mike Pence knows Don can't ever be sainted. Come November, when Donald is resigned to his fate He'll be immortalised in an uncommonly gaudy portrait, He's sure going to stand out from all the other ex-Presidents, The very picture of wilful ignorance and unmasked arrogance.