Richard III
Now is the winter of our discontent:
evicted Tuesday – couldn’t pay the rent.
No consolation bourbon – dough’s all spent.
Can’t call the helpline. Haven’t got a cent.
Cops busted me for “Lurking Within Tent”
- now sleeping on Duluth hoosegow cement.
My grandpa, Richard: and my dad – absurd
that they should call me Richard (Dick the Tird).
My ex so named me, as she flipped the bird.
I’m so unlucky, bums think I’m a kurd!
I’ve fewer teeth now than a hobo’s comb.
When I get out, the fresh air is my home.
So tell me, White House – where’s my Golden Dome?
Do what you will – but don’t send Kristi Noem!
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