In the White House, with knowing eyes
The Zero and his fools lay
He was born abroad, in liberal guise
Into the liberal socialist way
He made many a feast and partied fast
Crowned by his minions with powers
That he thought were his at long last
Ahh, an ode to the witching hours
The brooding doubters no awe beheld
This brilliant zero of the world
The doubters swelled and swelled
And on his head all hurled
His minions all bowed before his past
In patience, but without disdain
They let his thugs corruption cast
And kissed the zero’s hand again
So well he spoke, the morning broke
Across the liberal way
A destructive hate again awoke
And filled his goal each day
“Poor land,” cried zero, “so deep accurst
That ruined our lives so fair
From Carter comes the label worst
Go peasants and see if I even care”
He heard the sound of America’s best
With words and truth arrayed
He felt a fear rise inside his breast
But he ignored it and the lies he made
He closed his zipper and made a decree
As he walked to the window round
“Death to anyone who refuses to follow me,”
Said zero, as he rubbed his imperial crown
He fired his czars, he stomped the ground
His henchmen could not please
He tore his hair trying to shut out the sound
Of the flowing tea which he could not appease
With hate-filled eyes and arrogance beyond relief
He attacked the tea and those who dared drink
With bitter strife of a zero in purpose and belief
He launched an ad that proved his agendas stink
In autumn time when leaves blow down
And tears wash across his zero sum face
The pain he’ll feel from hearing the sound
Of citizens drinking tea in every place
