Scot To the Bone - In Trump's Own Words

You know that I won Some say I clear lost Their whines so exhaust Wrong man they just crossed. How wrong they all are Fools to a man When I've only began To work out my plan. Just wait and see The Don at his best When put to the test I’ll make them all stressed. First up I'll sue Reverse the dumb vote My win then promote Un-float their small boat. That all said and done If not quite enough I may tweak the math Then get rough and tough. Call up our fine troops Coerce the weak judges Then when in my clutches It's me or coarse crutches. I think that will do it But should I be wrong There's a place I belong The land of the strong. A country of Lochs Of moors and steep hills Abundant in stills Real folk with few frills. That land I can buy In fact much I own And Celt to the bone I’ll claim Scotland's throne. A great fallback plan Melania as queen All day she can preen Unspoken just seen. Once king I can rule Play golf and write laws As a man without flaws Days filled with applause. My plans fully set I'll ponder and see For whatever will be Yet I’m ready to flee.