Big Bad Don by Jeff “Dr Chordate” Moran

He came to the office every day about noon.
He stood six foot three and weighed two sixty two.
Kinda narrow at the shoulder and broad at the hip,
But everybody knew they didn’t give no lip to Big Don.

Big Don. Big Don. Big bad Don.

No one seemed to know where Don called home,
New York City or Mar-a-Lago.
He twittered a lot; he wasn’t shy,
And if he spoke to you, you said, “Aye, aye.”

Some one said he came from the Queens
Where he paid a porn star to fulfill his dreams.
And he hired a large legal team
To deal with lawsuits that came in streams.

Big Don. Big Don. Big bad Don.

Then came a time of prolonged distress
When the Mueller group created a mess.
Dems subpoenaed and Barr refused,
And Don called everything, “Fake news!”

Through the dust and the choking of this self-made hell,
He walked with a swagger his base knew well.
He grabbed a few pussies and sent out a tweet,
And like a giant orange, he was juicy and sweet.

Big Don. Big Don. Big bad Don.

With presidential power, he gave a mighty, “Hey!
No one testifies unless I give the Okay.”
A hundred people scrambled to get out of town.
And only one was left to wander around.

With votes and slogans, a campaign began.
You could even hear the grumble in the heartland.
A blue wave tsunami, it was a sign.
Everyone knew it was the end of the line, for

Big Don, Big Don. Big bad Don.

They never again voted for such a worthless twit.
They moved on and got over it.
Just these few words of a hist’ry bygone:
“This was a time of a big, big con, from Big Don.”

Big Don. Big Don. Big bad Don.

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