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Young Bushie crowed, "We won by heck", His Mommy, of course, sneered. Yale's coach had said, "Hey, wait a sec, It's worse than we had feared. Our football team just lost to Smith. Our quarterback looked skeered. Yet Preston Bush's dopey grandson Cheered and cheered and cheered. "Can he not sense disaster? Not recognize distress? Can't ev'ryone see W's DNA's a mess?" Years later, when he'd run amok, 'Twas as Yale's coach had feared. He'd gone ahead and pushed his luck. Aren't Bushies all revered? This time he stood upon a deck While sycophants all cheered, Including Miller's New York Times Which should have jeered and jeered: "He still can't sense disaster, Can't recognize a mess. Look how Preston Bush's DNA reacts to stress." Now though he still is at it, The Times has come around. Even some Republicans Sense Bush has run aground. His ship of state is floundering. We'll soon hear Cheney say, "Wolfie, darling, kiss me, dear. It's in the DNA!"
Original Verse by Felicia Dorothea Heman To 'Bushie's Cheney' |