The beginning of that last post had a familiar cadence. Took me a while to place it. Let's see if I can make it work...
There I sat all broken hearted, tried to blog but only farted.
While I struggled, nearly snapping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my duplex door.
`'Tis some census goon,' I muttered, `tapping at my duplex door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
Ah, distinctly I remember - it was in that bleak November,
Chrissy Matthews tugged his member; Hope-n-Change was at his door.
Eagerly I wished the morrow - vainly I had sought to borrow
From the blogs surcease of sorrow - sorrow deep within my core -
For my neighbors had elected morons dumb as fungal spores.
Joblessness for evermore.
And then the nausea I felt, amplified by wide boob belt
Chilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the wrenching in my gut, I stood clenching
`'Tis some census goon entreating entrance at my duplex door -
Not Michelle Obama bleating just outside my duplex door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
'Just a second, stupid hippie, headcount only and no more;
While on my blog I was mocking, and so gently you came knocking,
Quietly like you were stalking, knocking at my duplex door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Obamas there! and nothing more.
Barry O. began to stutter, Michelle O. said "don't eat the butter",
Nanny stater, she's so brazen. "You'll get fatter than Al Gore."
Not the least obeisance made they; not a minute stopped or stayed they;
But, with mien of lord and lady, barged right through my duplex door -
Michelle took the comfy sofa; barry parked upon the floor -
Barged, and sat, demanded more.
Then this ebony turd beguiler, of many lies he was plyer,
With the grave and stern decorum of the countenance he wore,
`Though I promised lower taxes, we will plunder all the masses!"
Ghastly grim and oh-so brazen, "Tax until the butthole's sore!"
"You'll soon find out what the game is, IRS is keeping score.'
Quoth Obama, `Gimme more.'
Much I marvelled this ungainly nerd, his gait was rather dainty
Many speeches, little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet could be so "wee-wee'd" and achieve the Senate floor -
Somehow Whitehouse he attained to, "D'oh! A window, not a door!"
Swings the club and then yells "Fore!"
Craven tells us he'll be bolder, that he soon will seal the border,
Not quite male, it's Eric Holder, spins a tale like bard of yore.
"I like girls, like Elena Kagan, see my wife there, I'm not fakin'
Sorry... this is harder than it looks. Said the blogger "rhyme no more"