610. Oh Donnie Boy


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Oh, Donnie boy, the pipes, the pipes you’re smoking
From swamp to swamp, and down the fairway side.
The summer’s gone, and all the roses choking,
It’s you, it’s you must go and I must bide.
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Don’t come ye back after midterms in the meadow,
Or when the White House is hushed and white with snow,
It’s Mueller here in sunshine or in shadow,
Oh, Donnie boy, oh Donnie boy, you lie so low!
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But if ye come, and all the flowers are dying,
If law is dead, as dead as it may be,
Don’t bother with another rally’s lying
You’ll come and find your shame in history,
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And I shall hear, while soft you tread above me,
And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be,
For you will bend and tell me that you love me,
And I shall drag your fat ass to infamy.
Image result for trump in hell images

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