Oddly, I never thought the President was a funny bloke,
But now the laugh is on me and, seriously, I get the joke,
Hee hee, he’s hysterical- he changes history, with one Master stroke-
Gather the gullible, get back on stage, simply grin and say ‘I misspoke.’
The President looked down from the casement
Of his glittering golden GREAT gilded Trump Tower,
The full moons soft saffron suffused glow meant
Don’s Rolex showed he was nearing the witching hour.
Tonight the moon seems full, of dark portent,
Tonight Don is as quiet and shy as a wall-flower,
Tonight its rich unadulterated light has lent
A blood-moon cast to his petulant glower.
Oh, how it pains this peach-of-a-President
To find Captain ‘Merica’s lost his superpower
As well as losing that sweet smell of victory scent,
Since he parleyed with Putin that’s started to sour.
In the FAKE photos Don sees it, and it is all too evident;
‘Neath a fake tan lies a sad whey-faced sack of sh– flour,
How he regrets Moscow and the time there ill-spent,
In the moons glow the tears flow, a regular golden shower.
Vlad To The Bone. (Apologies to George Thorogood.)
When two princes amongst men met up in Helsinki
Both promised, vowed, swore a swear with extended pinky
To put aside that old veil of dark secrecy, so deep, black and inky;
If Vlad’s pants look uncomfortably hot, don’t Dons seem a whiff stinky?
In a most comradely fashion the two privately conversed,
When they emerged into the light, all dark clouds dispersed,
Donald smiling dimly,Vladimir’s smile smug, satisfied, fit to burst,
How did Vlad contrive to convince Don to put ‘Meric- err… Russia First?
When Donald went off to Windsor to visit the queen
He thought it a suitable platform to strut and preen,
Sadly, Don doesn’t know much… about Royal protocol;
He strode out ahead of Her Majesty on the Royal stroll,
Did he thoughtlessly think he was strolling on his links so green?
He Royally ballsed-up, but for Liz its not the first horses ass she’s seen.
Poor Theresa May is finding this leaving lark tough,
Trump is coming a’calling just when Boris calls her bluff,
Boris’ untimely and boorish approach she should rebuff-
She ain’t no bloody Boadicea, but she’s made of stern stuff-
But she is oh so tempted to hand it to that tousle-haired scruff.
Let Bo take the tiny hand that slithers from the silken cuff,
A pedicured pampered hand, yet a touch… course and rough,
Let them bond over common interests; trade, markets, dandruff?
But Tess does know one red white and blue bastard is quite enough,
So she’ll smile, lie and try to think of England and not stalk off in a huff.
Who did Don choose when Scott Pruitt ‘chose’ to resign?
Another wheeler-dealer, another diamond from the mine,
A lobbyist who has a heart and soul
Hard as anthracite, black as coal,
Dredged up from some dank place the sun don’t shine.
The time to resign has finally come for Scott Pruitt,
The story has long been ‘not if, but when’ he’d do it,
Don had had high hopes for his EPA chief,
He had handed Scott his working brief
For the EPA, knowing full well Scott would screw it.