A senate full of Don’s defenders grimace with success,
All smiles (and witnesses) they’ve managed to suppress,
Just so Donald won’t be tossed out of his current address,
Ask Don if Justice has been served, he’ll say ‘Damn well, yes.’
As the court rises and the Judge world-wearily sums up
Mitch sits and hopes his magical red number comes up,
If two Republicans won’t raise their hands or their bums up
They sore will when Mitch gives ’em a double thumbs up.
So Don is proclaimed innocent and he is freed to go
Dishing out fear and loathing to both friend and foe,
One thing Mitch’s shi pitiful no-show-or-tell trial does show
Is if Bolton wants to give you a good deal on Don- just say no.
Sourly Harvey Weinstein shuffles before the Court
Alone, he leans, puffing heavily on his groaning walker,
Not one decent actress offers him comfort or support-
Not one has a good word for Hollywood’s suite stalker.
Harvey can put on an act worthy of an Academy Award,
He’ll claim he’s been wrongly ostracised and victimised,
Anyone in his Company will say ‘he’s universally adored,’
Harv humbly says, face flushed and red as a blushing bride.
But truth be told, The Weener’s future is looking grim,
At long last he’s gonna find he has to embrace his past,
Then when he’s behind bars, who is there to comfort him?
Hold on Harv, you may experience being sexually harassed.
After Mr Khashoggi’s unfortunate demise
The Saudi Arabian court, to no-ones surprise,
Found the ruling family’s sweet Prince innocent
Of anything to do with this… unseemly accident.
A few dutifully loyal employees who ‘went too far’
Are now looking at work severance- via the scimitar,
Uncovering this truth causes the Prince much grief-
Even if, to those not richly blessed it beggars belief.
The devastated monarch will be wringing his hands
Till those lily white fingers drip blood on the sands,
But he must just accept the lawful verdict of his Court,
And if anyone thought justice can be bought-
Perish the thought.
Donald is a giver, he’s generous to a fault,
He’s worked the land, proved he’s worth his salt,
A poor real estate man, the scu-salt of the earth,
A man who shows us today, again, his true worth.
The Court has found, much to Dons disgust
He’s guilty of reaching into his sacred Trust,
Oh, its been a far too easy mistake to make
For a man who only seeks an even (tax) break.
The cruel verdict strikes deeply into Dons bleeding heart,
No book deals today for the dealer of his deep dark art,
Tomorrow he will add another chapter to his artless tome;
‘On no account leave any trace of charity beginning at home.’
Sorrowfully sitting in his cell
Is new inmate ex-Cardinal Pell,
Publicly his innocence he still professes,
Though to his God he quietly confesses,
‘Lord, it was only the occasional lap lapse;
Lord, hoping for celibacy is all well and good
But there’s little or nun of that in the priesthood.’
But from above, if He heard
There’s not been one little word,
He would have thought one-
The Father or His blessed son-
Or that ethereal wraith-
Would speak to a man of faith,
But yet, not one uplifting sound;
How loud Gods silence doth resound.
Now that Mr Pell has been solitarily confined
He has time to, unmolested, scour his mind,
One day is an eternity in this Hellish place,
Though being banged up in solitary is his saving grace,
George has gone from shooting the papal bull
To hearing a cardinals word is not indisputable,
And what he saw as an innocent Church affair
Is turning into his worst unfrocking nightmare.