THE COCKWOMBLE BALLAD

The Ballad of the Cockwomble-in-Chief

Oh, gather ‘round and lend your ears,
To the tale of Trump and his wild four years.
A man of orange, both loud and vile,
Who governed the land in his signature style.

They called him "The Cockwomble-in-Chief,"
A bringer of chaos, a maker of grief.
With a face that glowed like a Cheeto bright,
And hands so small they’d vanish from sight.

His speeches flowed, a torrent of error,
A verbal diarrhea, a clownish terror.
“Covfefe” he tweeted, what could it mean?
Even scholars were stumped by his Twitter machine.

He boasted and bragged, oh, such a big deal,
"The biggest crowd ever!" (a lie to conceal).
He stared at the sun during an eclipse,
And drank Diet Coke with those puckered lips.

Insecurity oozed from every pore,
He needed his ego fed more and more.
A wall to be built, “the greatest!” he cried,
But Mexico laughed, and funding was denied.

And then there’s Melania, his long-suffering wife,
Stuck in a gilded, reality-TV life.
Her eyes screamed "help" as she swatted his hand,
Dreaming of escape to a far-off land.

His clownish antics, a circus show,
With Sharpie hurricanes, he’d boldly go.
He danced like a toddler on rally stages,
Spewing nonsense fit for satire pages.

The jail cell loomed, he narrowly missed,
His lawyers worked magic, his charges dismissed.
Yet justice is patient; it waits its turn,
As the world watches this cockwomble burn.

So here’s to Trump, the guttersnipe king,
A tragicomedy on full display’s wing.
May history laugh, then learn from this goof,
That truth and decency hold the proof.

Oh, Cockwomble-in-Chief, you will succumb,
A lesson for all of what not to become.
The world will move on, with hope and cheer,
All will rejoice as you won’t be missed here.