“Something’s nagging,” thought the Donald.
Though his polls were out of sight,
Yet his instincts (never failed him!)
Told him something wasn’t right.
Well, it couldn’t be his rivals–
They had all turned tail and fled:
Weird witch doctor, Little Marco,
Boring Jeb, and Lyin’ Ted.
“Was it terrorists?” he wondered,
“Or those tax returns? Well, maybe,
Or perhaps some post-traumatic
From that obvious Clinton baby?”
And the mentioning of Clinton
Brought a thought far from amusing.
Was there nothing which could stop her?
“Could it be that I am…losing?”
“Not an issue,” he said loudly,
And his own voice made him steady.
“Lose? To Hillary the Liar?
Why, I’ve won that race already!
I look truly presidential–
Like George Washington’s the thinking–
And I tell the truth more often
Than did Roosevelt or Lincoln,
And I’m richer, have golf courses,
And at least one big casino,
Private planes and helicopters,
And a mini-Don bambino,
Making big deals every minute
And that really brings the loot in
And my friends are all big players
Like that Russian guy, Vlad Putin,
And there’s humor,” he said, frowning,
It’s sure not ‘cause I’ve got money
That the voters all adore me,
It’s because I’m so damned funny!
Mocking enemies,” he added,
“Hil and all her sad supporters,
Muslims, Mexicans, the Pope,
And then there’s handicapped reporters.
I’m so perfect, really perfect,
That I can have my pick and choosing—“
And then came a revelation:
“Think how good I’d be at losing!
Anyone can win—Slick Willy
Did it twice—it makes me queasy
When I think his wife could do it,
But, losing now, for me’s not easy!
So imagine—I call the press in—
What a triumph! Damn the cost!
I say, frankly, I’m so good that
I beat Hillary—and lost!
Then I’ll make the best concession,
Better speech was never spoke!
And I’ll say who should replace me—it’s—”
But Newt Gingrich then awoke.