Hey Mitt, shake it loose for pleasure—
if you one time said something,
you know you can change the measure:
just kill your statement of last night,
don’t stand your ground.
We’re gonna hear eclectic new shtik
each time your mouth sounds.

Your pandering’s legend; you will go and fetch
for each group, no doubt—re-set-set-set the Etch-a-Sketch.
We will hear something’s wonderful,
next you say you didn’t mean
what you said—now it’s moot; again reboot
though we just read it in a magazine.
Re-set-set-set the Etch-a-Sketch

Hey, Mitt, what you say is baseless;
when the Etch-a-Sketch resets, it’s blank and faceless.
You sure can jive—what’s said depends on the throng.
As a mighty pand’rer you can’t be beat—
something’s right—next day it’s wrong.

You’re a flip-flop legend; you will go and fetch
for each group, no doubt—re-set-set-set the Etch-a-Sketch.
We will hear something’s wonderful,
but the next time you are seen,
what you aired—now it’s moot; again reboot,
just shake it, and next thing you know, it’s clean!
Re-set-set-set the Etch-a-Sketch.

Etch-a, Etch-a, Etch-a-Sketch. . . .