To the tune of Battle Hymn Of The Republic
Mine eyes have seen the horror of the coming of the fraud,
He is trampling on the values where enlightenment is stored,
He has loosed the frightening hatreds of the crypto-fascist horde,
His lies are marching on.
Predatory shallow huckster!
Purgatory jumbo burger!
Gory tory bankrupt traitor!
Impeach the bastard soon!
To the tune of Swanee River
May fawns before the porky fibber,
Hoping for gain.
She’s no catch to a pussy-grabber
Who don’t like his whores so plain.
For him it’s just another golf trip
Plus rude abuse,
For her it’s “special relationship” –
But crawling could not induce.
All the UK’s crass and ugly,
Everywhere I look;
Oh, Tories, how you wreck so smugly
For a thug who ain’t read a book.
To the tune of The Old Rugged Cross
In the US of A squats an old crooked boss,
The emblem of cruelty and hate,
He’s a dumb psychopath who don’t give a toss
For the world and its poor people’s fate.
So we must fight this cold wicked dross
Till he’s breaking rocks on a chain gang,
Or he’ll wreak irreversible loss,
And end not with a tweet but a bang.
To the tune of Where Have All The Flowers Gone?
Where have all the rebels gone, long time passing?
Where has the resistance gone, long time ago?
Where have all the lefties gone?
Crushed by Murdoch, every one…
But a few still stood their ground,
And that’s why I’m still around.
To the tune of Hail To The Chief
Quail at the thief Putin’s chosen for the nation,
Veil false belief he’s fit to run a whelk stall,
Wail at the grief as he kills co-operation
In proud fulfilment of barbarians’ call.
His is the aim to make the richest even richer,
This he will do, it’s the nasty neo-con brief.
Frail is resistance to the repulsive lecher,
A failed constitution can’t bring relief.
To the tune of The Star Spangled Banner
O how can it be that this ludicrous sight
With peach bouffant flapping and tangerine face drooling,
Whose shrill pipes and fat arse seduced the redneck right
Enough to ensure cruel ignorance is now ruling?
The misogynist, billionaire, narcissist,
Kremlin-backed, tax-dodging white supremacist
Only proves that the evil empire is sick,
The robbed land of the gun and the home of the thick.
To the tune of My Darling Clementine
In deep trouble, in a hell-hole,
Disinformed and asinine,
Run by ponces, proper nonces, and their ruler Frankenstein.
Oh my darling, oh my reader,
Listen to the bottom line:
We are lost and gone forever
Till we fight back and combine.