SING A SONG OF TWENTY FOUR MORE

Sing a song of sick Pence,
And other Trump allies;
Four and twenty black days
More of their half-baked lies.

When the election was over,
The result was a rigged thing:
Wasn’t that a dirty trick
To play upon the King?

Now King Donald’s mad as a hatter,
Growing more desperate by the day:
All the King’s horses’ asses and all the King’s men
Can’t keep Biden from taking Don’s throne away.

So hang in there, fellow peasants,
Until the fat lady sings….
In three and twenty days
We’ll rejoice for what tomorrow brings.