Bush journeys to the Marines’ Quantico,
Fear mongering with all due bravado.
Turns it all up a notch,
Saying “Not on my watch.”
All we can say to this sham man is, “Dung Ho!”
(five more after the fold)
They’ve issued an Air Force directive,
Avoiding London seems a little defective.
We’ll “stand by our man”,
Behind huge bags of sand,
While enduring deserved invective.
Bush says he’ll fire anyone involved,
But now that the Plame riddle’s been solved,
He’s inexplicably clove,
To ol’ Turb Blossum Rove,
Five will get you ten, Karl’s officially absolved.
As we listen to Scottie McClellan,
`Tis to laugh all this BS he’s sellin’.
He’s instep this big troll,
Both in heart and insole,
There’s no doubt he’s just gellin’ with felons.
The White House has no comment at all,
Regards Rove they just obfuscate and stall.
Lets hope the redress,
From an awakening press,
Will make Dennis look like a spring squall.
For strange news, to South Dakota we slog,
Where a man lost an ear; the prologue:
He fought over his mutt,
With a fishing zealot.
The results: “Man Bites Man Over Dog”.
