The Plutocrat known as The Mitt
Discovered a hand he could fit —
It belongs to the bankers
And the rest of those wankers
Who yell, “I’ll take yours! Gimme it!”
The Mitt has accounts well offshore
Where he has his millions in store.
Soon he will add yours
When he’s finished his chores
And myopically mopped up our floor.
Here’s a little bit more on The Mitt:
His poor rooftop doggie won’t fit
Into his carriage,
So he’s building a garage
In his house where the doggie can sit
While his autos ride up and then down
And the poor folks who live in the town
Can be entertained
While they are disdained
By the witless remarks of a clown
Who believes that his fee was no tax,
So patients can lie and relax
And enjoy his repeal
Of the insurance deal
He laid on the taxpayers’ backs
Once as governor. He’s seen the light!
As President he’ll do what’s right:
He’ll deny medication
To the whole Federation
And call it his finest insight.
Copyright 2012 by Wesli Court. All rights reserved.