Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.133.145.211
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
The oldest citizen of Soup Creek, Nopaul E. Ticks, posed to show his support for the town council's ban on politicians.

I hear that nasty Trump feller, wants to stump in Soup Creek.
He wrote to Mayor Tom saying it was an audience he'd seek
and a soap box on Main Street, right across from my Saloon,
but the mayor and I declined him by ignoring that buffoon.
In a poll of our townsfolks, no one wanted to hear him speak
so, we'll not be getting a visit from that charlatan of a goon.

Two days later, a helicopter flew high above Soup creek.
It landed and a woman got out, painted lips and rosy cheeks.
Trump sent Melania to town, thinking we'd fall at her feet.
When I see her face on my computer, I hit control, alt, delete,
She's as bad as he is cuz we heard she's got a mean streak.
Sheriff Mark kept her Christian Louboutin shoes off our street.

Trump tried to sneak in when upon a stagecoach he rode.
Every horse threw him off because he was too heavy a load.
Ranger David was on the case and turned the stage around,
telling Trump, "You're not welcome here, you low life hound!
We don't want liars 'round here, croaking like a horned toad.
Get out or you'll be hogtied and with ropes you'll be bound."

The train pulled in a nearby town, but a posse had been sent.
When a deputy saw pudge's red hat, he knew the guy's intent,
so, aimed his gun below his belt and the Trumpster was felled.
He wasn't shot but his pants were brown and how they smelled.
He cried as the train pulled out, but lingering was his scent.
The posse did their job and the arrogant one was expelled.

Soup Creek was ready for the next planned attack he'd make.
Everyone was on alert to watch out for that old dissolute rake!
The saloon girls said they'd sterilize him if he ever came back
by slipping bleach in his whiskey. They'd not listen to his flack,
for they knew him as a sinner, a forked tongued devil, a snake.
If he got outta town alive, plan B was to get him in a bushwhack.

We think he's gone from Soup Creek, and we hope it's for good. 
But at dawn of the very next day, on Main Street there stood.
Not the Donald, but one who says he shouldn't have to testify
before the Jan. 6 committee, and their subpoena he would defy.
It was Pense, the exVP, who was trying just as hard as he could
to get inside our neighborhood, but on his back was a bull's eye.

Our citizens took a vote to keep out all the political riff raff.
Notices were sent out across the West, from Waco to Flagstaff
We chose to protect Soup Creek with our own rules and laws
without government interference, their corruption and flaws.
If anyone defiantly tried, we'd affix their heads on a pikestaff,
or duel them on Main Street, our lawmen are all quick draws.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required