(with apologies to Stan Jones and Glen Campbell, Roy Clark and Johnny Cash)
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The president woke up early on a dark and gloomy morn.
Reaching for his phone, he tweeted out a storm,
“There never was collusion and why would it be so bad
to cooperate with Russia and with my old pal Vlad?”
His tiny thumbs on fire, misspellings filled the screen,
fretful and frustrated he vented angry spleen.
A bolt of fear went through him as he pondered what might come
if Mueller flipped Don Jr. and the boy stopped being dumb.
Putin I owe, Putin I pay!
Bob Mueller go away.
He rose from bed, his bathrobe soaked with Diet Coke and sweat.
“They're all coming after me but they ain't caught me yet”,
he mumbled as he fumbled with his hair spray and his comb,
“It's not my fault anyway,” as from his mouth spilled foam.
He switched on fifty TVs to watch fifty shades of FOX,
“Mueller thinks he's got me, but I'm not in a box
I'll start a war and bomb Warsaw, Korea and Iran.
They'll never take me down, Donald Trump I am.”
Putin I owe, Putin I pay!
Bob Mueller go away
Putin I owe, Putin I pay!
Putin I owe, Putin I pay!