It seems to me today
That one quite lucrative career
Is whispering advice
Straight to a politician’s ear
Some candidates set sail
And see at once their ship is sinking
They need a gentle voice to tell them
What they should be thinking
Young slicks with dirty tricks
And tactics downright reprehensible
Will, when the moment comes
Prove to their bosses, indispensable
Old hands from western lands
Will furnish volumes of advice
(Which thou should order now
At the pre-publication price)
Well, class–it seems, alas
One candidate just isn’t listening
She’s vexed, reviewing texts
Of Chelsea’s vows and Charlotte’s Christening
The Left is quite bereft
And while the Right is busy hammering
The libs assess her fibs
And for a rival have been clamoring
So I, a modest guy
As I’m sure most of you suspect
Will spin my two cents in
Albeit curtly and direct
In fact, my lack of tact
Will be apparent in due course
For I would urge her ladyship
To file for divorce
And claim, to save her name
That’s she’d uncovered some disparity
While Bill had fleeced the till
And lined his pockets from the charity
And thus, under the bus
That reprobate goes straight to Hades
While she to some degree
Regains her status with the ladies
And then, condemning men
Pour forth her grief in phony tissues
And never (This is clever)
Take a position on the issues.
