Hush, little Donnie, don’t you cry.
You know you’ve been caught in a lie.
But your trials won’t soon be over.

Indictments piled high as the sky
Show us that you’re a sleazy guy.
But your trials won’t soon be over.

The judge is not a friendly guy;
He rules and Donald must comply.
He wants Donald’s trial to be over.

Sisters and brothers,
What will the juries find?
When Trump’s trials are finally over?

First, Donald screwed a Centerfold
And Stormy’s story’s now been told.
And that trial may soon be over.

Trump’s campaign must be put on hold;
For Donald must do as he’s told.
Donald’s Porn star trial, not yet over.

Prison cells are drafty and cold;
The toilet seats, no longer gold.
What awaits Trump when his trial’s over?

Sisters and brothers,
What will the juries find
When Trump’s Porn star trial’s finally over?

(1) May be sung to “All My Trials,” a spiritual of uncertain origin. Both Joan Baez and Peter, Paul, and Mary recorded enchanting versions.