“Ode to a POTUS” by Robert Kibble (after “Address to a Haggis” by Robert Burns)
No’ fair your great big orange face,
Great shame upon the human race.
Your manners lack even a trace
O’ statesman’s vision
Well are ye worthy of disgrace,
And my derision.
The shameful seat which now ye fill
Your presence quite a bitter pill
That we must now endure until
Your term is o’er
Then celebrate we surely will
As you lose power.
Your life has seen no labouring blight
A lack of empathy that might
Have given you a little sight
Of honest poor
That maybe you would know their plight
Not show the door.
Them, those: the poor, they stretch an’ strive
Devil tak the hindmost, down they dive
Till all their hard-won shots in life
Are stretched like drums
Wi’ poverty and failure rife
Is there that hates his French Hollande,
Or Merkel, Tsipras, or the band
O’ leaders who at least can stand
That fear abates
People who haven’t blindly fanned
The fires of hate.
That devil, doing anything allowed
Denying numbers of a crowd
His head never being bowed
To honour brains
No! Simply talking ever loud-
er over men.
Ye pow’rs, wha mak mankind your care
And give them elections, sometimes fair,
Before any countries war declare
One change before us?
So lord, I ha’ just one wee prayer
Gi’ me a better POTUS!