In the year o-eight, November five
Coleman is still alive,
If Franken can survive,
They may find.

In the year twenty and a-o nine,
Ain't gonna be a lick of truth, just old lies,
Franken, Coleman trying to say,
Put me in the Senate today.

In the year twenty and a-o ten,
Ain't gonna send a man, recount is on again,
You won't find no vote that'll do,
Best of five's gonna see this through.

In the year twenty and eleven,
Candidates staring up at heaven,
Each side's got nothing to do,
The judge is doing that for you.

In the year twenty and a-one two,
Ain't gonna need no counter, still got a few,
They'll count the votes, check the voters too,
For the sixth time, they'll do this review.

In the year twenty and a-thirteen,
Appeal's a-coming, they ought to make the court scene,
The judge may look around himself and say,
Guess we'll delay the judgment day.

In the year twenty and a-fourteen,
Franken's gonna shake his head, it seems,
Well Coleman says, "Let's try the vote again,"
Just as their term is at its end.

In the year twenty and a-one five,
I'm kinda wondering, if Senate job is still alive,
They've taken too much time, no one has the win,
A new senator is in.