Day 1439, The Day After Christmas
‘Tis the day after Christmas; all through the White House,
All the short-timers gather; drink coffee and grouse.
There’s nothing to do since the boss isn’t there.
They could drink and play poker; the boss wouldn’t care.
The votes are all counted; we’re turning the page.
Trump’s processing grief and he seems stuck on rage.
He’s in Mar a Lago, just lining up putts.
You can tell from his tweets, Donald Trump’s going nuts.
He’s pardoning crooks who worked in his campaign,
Colluding with Russians, as Mueller made plain.
War criminal pardons make justice a joke,
Mass murder excused with one Sharpie pen stroke.
So, Trump’s playing golf; meanwhile Covid 19
Is slaughtering folks, just like 1918.
Trump abandoned his post; everybody concurs.
He can’t work anymore; (due to pain from bone spurs?)
In four weeks, Joe Biden moves in the White House.
We’ll sing, “Hallelujah!” Yes, even the mouse.
We’ll get vaccinated, though some will resist.
There’ll still be obstruction, for Mitch won’t desist.
Pandemic, depression, the Trump legacy,
Some sycophants still serve his dark fantasy.
But, let us move on from the dark to the light,
Raise our middle fingers, and bid Trump, “Good night!”