Good thing now that Scooter’s out of his West Wing office,
When the snow lay round about, maybe Karl’ll lose his.
Democrats can’t sleep at night; wow that man is cruel!
Whenever he perceives a slight, attacking like a ghoul.
“Mehlman, come and stand by me, if you know it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?”
“Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence, by Saint Agnes’ fountain.”
“Bring me slander, bring me lies, bring me pine logs hither,
You and I will see him writhe, when we bear them thither.”
Pig and toady, forth they went, forth they went together,
Through the nation’s sad lament and threw him to the weather.
“Sire, the night is darker now, and the scandal stronger,
Fails my heart, I know not how; I can go no longer.”
“Mark my footsteps, my good stooge, tread now in them boldly,
You shall find the country’s rage freeze your blood less coldly.”
In a falling master’s steps he trod, where the snow lay dinted;
Slime was in the very sod which the fascist printed.
Therefore, right-wing men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing,
Turn away from Karl’s path and find yourself a blessing.