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Who said a dumb idea? We'll end the flack's career. We'll fabricate and feed Lou Dobbs a Bush bum steer. That's new? Not new, Nor who could do. A spiller Lou'll take to? A Judy Miller shrew? That shrew? Our shrew. Could do, on cue. If we have to we'll make do. Would she reveal her source Or let Lou beat the horse? Must be deceased, poor horse, to warrant Lou's discourse No source? Remorse. Dead horse? Discourse! When she ends up in stir, Who'll count her days in stir? First him, then her. They'll both come through, After all, that's what they do. Will folks know it's hindsight? Their public's not that bright. While bylines in The Times will make it look all right. Her plight, a fright? They might not bite. When Scooter sounds all clear And ends up on his ear, She'll disappear, But who'll shed a tear? That damn fool Lou's still here!
Music & Original Lyric by Frank Loesser |