June 4, 2004

We're All In The Bowl

Old King George
Was a very new scourge,
And a sorry Commander in Chief;
He plotted his schemes,
And he called for Marines,
'Til the troops cried out for relief.

He called up Dick Cheney,
And he called up Don Rumsfeld,
And he called for his diddlers three.
And when he was through,
They all looked so blue,
Even Condi wouldn't sit on his knee.

Every spin-doctor
Had a fiddle fine,
And a very fine fiddle had he or she.
"They're so dumb, tweedle dee,"
went the fiddlers three,
"They be dumb, o so dumb dee diddly dee."

"You must stay the course,"
Said Karl 'til he was hoarse,
And tell the voters we see victory.
"Don't falter," he said,
"They won't count the dead,
Until the election is just history."

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