Jeff Epstein got a birthday card from Donald in ‘03,
A naked lady’s outline and some text of ribaldry.
The card is just signed, “Donald,” in his big thick marker style.
The White House claims the card is forged, but with a nervous smile.

Trump filed his usual lawsuit when the first reports appeared.
But he’s been caught with his pants down and anti-Trumpists cheered.
And Trump alludes to secrets shared in writing on the card,
Arranged somewhat like poetry but Donald is no bard.

The Trumpists face a quandary; Trump stepped on his own dick.
A lot of rich men with pants down may make some Trumpists sick.
The stain that Jeffrey Epstein spread was pedophilia,
And nothing literary like Shakespeare’s Ophelia.

And now the card that Donald sent is stirring up a storm:
His reminiscences inside an outlined female form.
His signature is big and bold but Trump says, “That’s not me.”
His White House aides must lie for him, the truth, Trump’s enemy.

The card is in Jeff’s birthday book from two decades ago.
It shows that Don and Jeff back then were quite simpatico.
The lie Trump’s aides are telling us, what we’re asked to believe
Is, twenty years ago a forger wrote this to deceive.

So, what is Donald Trump to do, caught in another lie,
A tactic on which Donald must increasingly rely?
For Donald’s history is slathered with thick coats of sleaze,
Like business fraud, sexual assault, and even felonies.

There is a whiff of pedophilia with friends like Jeff.
And now it seems that Donald Trump cannot control the ref.
A lot of people say Trump’s chickens have come home to roost:
The Epstein birthday card Trump now denies that he produced.