The Darling Of The Fools

Little Dhimmi was the darling of the liberal fools,
He wrote about the flag, the war and the rules.
The joy of the fools, his ego’s delight;
So ugly was his soul, and his methods of spite;
No fool had surpass’d, or perhaps ever can,
Of liberal fools this one the podunk man.

His lies were so sinful, unaided by smart;
And dumb his demeanour, as spiteful his heart;
His dulled eyes a stupid flash so bedeck’d,
And fool’s sickened words by hate lightly check’d;
On his chin Laden hair had grown on his face,
And his mind never confessed the stupidity, a disgrace.

Though with truth beset, yet his brother knew,
As his ignorance was matchless, his heart was untrue,
So evil he went to attack the truth; while his brother.
His fears for this fool made him think and to shudder.
Full oft, in the gloom of reading the fool’s mail
Would shake his head in amusement to no avail.

One evening so gloomy, when the fool ranted on,
About how war wasn’t war and on wasn’t on,
The fool, whose hate was for all who didn’t agree
By a newly-made word pile, sat down full of glee.
But before he could number his lies to began
Up jumped a word still fresh from his gland.

Its hue it was deadly, its smell it was vast,
Brown and pale were its colors, that held his eyes fast.
He shriek’d a loud shriek, so delighted was he
But grimly it melted, as it rolled off his knee.
With a voice that dismay’d us, he jumped up and cried;
“That was my liberal brain! And its came from inside!”

He jumped into the word pile and gazed all around;
He grabbed and he yelled until he sunk to the ground;
With fear and with fright at what had occurred,
Though lost to his sight was the big lying word
The big lying word he tried to devour
So loudly he cried, “I’ll just make one this hour!”

Then up came a lying word, so smelly and soft,
And hit the fool's gray face just as he coughed.
His gray face extruded of lying word goo;
As the word left his lips it filled his mouth with pooh.
And the fool just sat laughing as it covered his face,
For he knew that he’d soon be back on pace.

Dark, dark was the pooh, that flowed from his lips,
For all of his lies, he now knew he would eclipse.
The moral of this tale for those who are clueless
Don’t spread pooh around unless you want a mess.
If you’re a fool, and love to tell lies
Go find a word and shove it up your thighs.