To Have Fun With the Candidates
By Franklin Price
1/25/2015
To have fun with the candidates
Should not cause any fuss
For after all most every day
They're having fun with us
Trump is a real playing card
Ted would like to Cruz to a win
Jeb's just beating 'round the Bush
Rubio thinks he's a Gem
Fiorina's whole wheat flour
Then there's honey Huckabee
We should be in a Santorum
There's a Christie cream to see
The taste could make a Kasich
Costing way too many Rand
Wouldn't like to drive their Carson
Maybe a Republican
The leprechaun O'Malley
Feels the Bern socialistically
If he's going to make it to the top
Has to climb the Hillary
So confused there are so many
Hard to see how I should vote
Who won't lead us lambs to slaughter?
Who won't be a Judas goat?
Guess that wasn't funny
Well it wasn't meant to be
Be careful what you're looking at
Is what you think you see
Big Ben chimes (resting) his 88th life-line
His oratory socialistically left explicitly refined
Always rallying heads above the gut-venting whines
Dissenting oratory silenced it seems, but only by Mr Time
His Popeye pipe yet resonates, smoking symbolic his inclined
A Bentonite legacy, a Ben store for the waking walking primed
RIP “The Tony” one... your way is thus comprehensively enshrined
Twisters unlike Supercala-fragilistic-expealidocious
Imagining dreams he was socialistically-unrealistic
Can you imagine an imaginary menagerie manager
Or try imagining managing an imaginary menagerie
Ev'rything can be satisfactch’ll for Zip-a-Dee-Doodah
Of course some make a hoo-hah over tiddly-boo-yah
Reggie’s chilly cheap chip shop sells Daryl a freak dip
Frightfully silly of her for, he flamboyantly let it rip
Her croaking Frog cost truly a princely sum of snobbery
Forgotten hopes, forlorn, besotted froglips of buffoonery
When the bleak breeze blights the bright blighted blossom
Betty beat a bit of butter to make a batter better awesome
Such a floozy to improperly expect a decent cup of coffee
I made it in a proper copper coffee pot, served with toffee
Later I saw Esau kissing Kate; at least me’ thinks I saw
The sorriest saw I saw was rustic on sawdust in Arkansas
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