TRUMP — or, I’m a better man than you are, Gunga Din

I’m a better man than you are, Gunga Din

by JLH, with apologies to Rudyard Kipling

You may talk of love and truth
When you woo the voting booth
And primary in your little, local race,
But bigger races need the dollar
And you are glad to wear the collar
Of anyone who helps you keep the pace.
Thus it happens in the U.S.,
In that political noisomeness,
Where the voters’ hopes have often flared and died.
Of all the Machiavellian crew
Who have swum that fiscal brew,
Just one has kept his head above the tide.

And it’s Trump! Trump! Trump!
How the hell did you make that jump?
Now stop this awful farce.
Don’t say things that we can’t parse
And go back to being the old, familiar Trump.

Tie is red, shirt white,
Suit blue both day and night,
Unless he’s going golfing with some friends.
So he’s red and white and blue,
And what he wants to do
Is help this ailing country try to mend.
The economy was failing,
And the middle class was flailing,
From eight socialist years of derring-do-do.
“Oh is there even one
Who’ll do more than simply run,
And, if elected, find something good to do?”

So it’s Trump! Trump! Trump!
Now that you’ve made the jump,
Make it pay, once more, to work,
Never mind the greedy jerks,
Who earn their obscene wages from the Sump.

He won and started work,
Unmindful of what lurks
And slithers in the corridors of power.
His thoughts are on the job.
Disdainful of the mob,
He focuses on using every hour.
He has both wealth and fame
And will spend them in the name
Of raising up the “deplorable” working class.
He takes no pay except for thanks
Moves lightly as a Patton tank,
And leaves his mark wherever he may pass.

So it’s Trump! Trump! Trump!
Pay no mind to Nancy Frump
Or her comrade, Cheesy Chuck,
Who are roiling in the muck.
Sail over them and you’ll hardly feel a bump.

Many run and many lose,
Of those who win, the most will choose
To quietly re-shape the pledges made.
They were not really lies,
But after triumph, it seems wise,
To show all due deference to those who paid.
When you’re dozing in your seat,
Newly elected, it’s a treat
To reflect upon the power that you wield.
Whether Senator or Rep,
You will soon become adept
At dealing with the art of double-deal.

And it’s Trump! Trump! Trump!
Your foes think you’re a chump
Crude and rude with words—
Target of politicians and nerds.
And all the survival instincts of Forest Gump.

Congress’s bestiary includes
Jackals and RINOs with attitudes,
Whose purpose in life is advancing only themselves.
Outside prowl lobbyists,
Whose phylum only exists
To take old, worn-out theories off the shelves.
In Hollywood a myriad folks
Whose intellects are open jokes,
Will yet command attention when they speak.
And though it is a strain
To do your job without a brain,
The MSM are performing at their peak.

Yes, it’s Trump! Trump! Trump!
We are here to prime the pump.
Yet though I’ve smeared you and defamed you,
For every mortal sin have blamed you,
You’re a better American than I am, Donald Trump.

5 thoughts on “TRUMP — or, I’m a better man than you are, Gunga Din

  1. Aand now……….

    ………..’tis time…………..for…………………….

    “The Grave of the Hundred Head.”

    • how about “The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner”
      he’s had quite a few albatrosses hung around his neck.

  2. I can see Mueller playing Hamzilla. Trump would also paraphrase Kipling. “It’s good to be WEST of Suez…” “When you find yourself wounded on Afghanistan’s plains, LEAVE.”

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