A thought entered Donald’s fine entrepreneurial mind,
‘Why can’t the underdeveloped wilds of Utah be mined?’
Some like-minded friends took interest in what was spoken;
Who cares if a few old treaties or ancient artifacts get broken?
You know the drill,
They dragged out the rig;
Went from mountain to molehill
In one fruitless dig
Once every last inch has been turned over and no pay dirt found
Trust Donald to find these pitiful piles of dirt ARE holy ground,
Now he says ‘We’re leaving you, your land, and the mess.’
Is there no end to big Chief Donald’s largesse?
This week it’s been in a dusty little Texas town,
There half a congregation were gunned down,
Another week, another maniac with a gun,
And next week there will be another one.
Our betters wring their hands once more,
Much like last week, and the week before,
Another abomination, another crazy crime,
But DON’T mention gun control at this sad time.
Soon in Sutherland Springs they’ll bury their dead,
A stirring never-to-be-forgotten speech will be read,
But thinking a lesson’s been learned would be a mistake-
Not with Freedom and a high-powered Amendment at stake.
Our fine leader wears a face wreathed in sadness
But he shows no will or want to rein in the madness,
So, next week when some gung-ho gun nut goes insane
We’ll send our condolences and hopes and prayers- again.
I can but feel for your poor statesman Barnaby Joyce,
Being called a Fair Dinkum Kiwi leaves him fairly f… annoyed,
But PLEASE, give your ex second-in-command a second chance?
Him washing up on our fair shores doesn’t exactly leave US overjoyed.
‘My NRA comrades-in-arms, times are fraught,
Rally to this call to alms, hand us your support,
A certain someone’s turned to Vegas as a last resort
And left us with the repercussions and a nasty report.
So, with wounds still raw and feelings overwrought
Now it’s time to practice what our forefathers taught,
To cherish old traditions for which they slaved and fought,
NOW is not the time to talk Control, perish (ahem) the thought.
Now you take your time to reflect, maintain silence and comport-
As the painful headlines fade, the peoples memory grows short;
Then we’ll be spendin’ time at Congress and the Supreme Court,
Every gun totin’ donation helps prove justice can be bought.’
Before the good Judge stands ex-Congressman Anthony Weiner,
Wearing a Valentino suit, Berluti shoes and a sorry demeanour,
After flicking through his cell phone pics she had never seen a
Clearer need for slapping on an extra year, and hand cleaner.
What a fine upstanding and changed man Tony appears,
But knowing he will be going away for nigh on two years
After hearing his plea for clemency has fallen on deaf ears
He fears he may soon be shedding more than crocodile tears.
He looks to his Defence team who look sad and defensive,
Its no easy brief representing one who you find reprehensive,
Yet should he appeal, their work will be full and comprehensive;
Oh joy, he’s going to appeal and it should prove hopeless AND expensive.
As incarceration approaches and his appeal on a slippery slope
His loyal lawyers come up with some advice to help him cope;
‘If all else fails , pray to a higher power, and never lose hope,
And if in the shower, whatever you do, don’t drop the soap.’