“Sergey, sergey—I’m so glad you’re back!”
Said vlad to a sweat-dripping sergey kislyak.
“Thanks, Mr. President, nice to be here.”
“You must be thirsty—so how ‘bout a beer?”
“No, thanks, Mr. President. Nothing for me!”
“Wouldn’t you have at least one glass of tea?”
“Thanks, Mr. President. Right now I’m fine.”
“Now, Sergey, I know you’ve a taste for good wine—
Just look at that vintage—just smell that bouquet!”
“No, thanks, Mr. President. Nothing today.”
“Ah—but how ‘bout some mors—our traditional drink?
“It’s tempting, but nothing for me, now, I think.”
“Only loads of fresh berries and honey and ice—
Say yes now, sergey—but I won’t ask you twice!”
“I’d like to say yes—“ “Good! I knew you would try it!”
“But have to say no on account of my diet!”
“Now, this isn’t healthy,” said vlad in frustration.
“July and it’s hot—you will need rehydration!”
“My doctor says sweating is good for my pores—
Although I admit that a glass of chilled mors—“
“Is right for such weather! So delightfully chill!”
“Oh dear! I’m so clumsy! Just look at that spill!”
“Some ice water, then? I’ve a full pitcher here!
Just see that thick frosting—it’s better than beer!”
“But I’m good for right now,” said the dripping kislyak.
“Maybe after you say why you wanted me back?”
“At least have a Coke—if you won’t try a beer—
It’s donny boy’s drink—he can make it appear
From a spot on his desk where there sits a red button
But I bet he drinks twelve a day, being a glutton!
And speaking of trump—he’s a problem, I think?
Let’s speak of him more after downing one drink—
Only one—but it’s vodka—let’s toast to the wealth
And Rodina’s power—“ “Sir, it’s bad for my health!”
“Well, maybe it’s bad, but I’ll tell you what’s worse—
It’s not taking a hint!” and vlad pulled, with a curse,
A pistol from under his desk and one shot
Rang out and sergey tumbled dead on the spot.
The shot brought an aide—“Sir?” “It’s sergey kislyak.
Just look at that sweat—I would say heart attack!”