Twas the Night of Jay Carney
Twas the night before breakfast for Lardass Michelle,
Whose figure was such it had all gone to Hell.
The hips were a draggin’ all over the floor,
While the waistline could never quite push through the door.
The lobsters were hung by their claws in the kitchen,
While back in the West Wing Michelle was a gritchin’.
And Bo in his ego, and Michelle with her tongue,
Had recently concluded her jowls were well-hung.
When out by the garden, there arose such a screech,
Bo sprang to the window-tripped over the beech!
Away to the window he flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up..the sash.
The moon on the rear of Barney Frank’s ass,
Made clear the fact he was having more gas.
When, what to Bo’s upturned chin should appear,
But Elections Two-Twelve and the results were quite clear.
With a little old Irishman full of the blarney,
He knew in a moment it must be Jay Carney.
More vapid than Waxman his fibs they did fly,
And Joe Wilson was heard to cry out that “You lie!”
“Now Al Gore! Now Grayson! Now Pelosi and Weiner!
On, Boxer, On, Feinstein, On camera! We seen ‘er!
To the top of the flagpole, his Weiner did rise,
Which called for more saltpeter, a word to the wise.
As wet Clintons that before the wild interns erect,
Bo hit the big button that made it eject!
So, up to the House, his deficit bill flew,
But everyone knew that her dress was still blue!
And then, in a twinkling, Bo heard on TV,
The scratching and clawing of each little flea.
As he drew in his head, and his Pinocchio nose,
Down the chimney Jay Carney came like his home bros’.
He was dressed all in camo, from his salt to his peter,
And his lies were all bundled in layers of cheater.
A bundle of falsehoods he had flung on his spine,
He looked like Baghdad Bob, claiming all was still fine.
His mic-how it twinkled! his TOTUS a putz!
His cheeks were like ACORNs, you knew he was nuts!
His droll little grin spread all over his face,
Which called for a quick spray or two of some Mace!
A stump speech he held, clenched tight in one fist,
Like all of the others, it was one to be missed.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Was all it would take before it was dead.
He was thin as a rail, befitting his rank,
And Michelle was there too, her breath how it stank.
And laying his finger inside of his nose,
A booger he dug, the big one he chose!
He sprang to his rostrum, to the press he did whistle,
And he kissed Helen Thomas, like the hose on a Bissell.
Then Bo heard him exclaim, as he lied through his teeth,
“Socialism for all, that to thee we bequeath!”