They used to dream that we'd uncover another popinjay, And wouldn't recognize it until too late in the day. That he would fancy himself then to be one of those god-like kind of men With a tiny brain, who's a figurehead who'd brag about the books he hadn't read. So along came Bush, who's just what they'd prayed for You'd hear him try to speak and want to laugh at him. That haunting grin was wearing thin not the kind of taunt you would want in a leader. But as they explain, It seems to be his brain That makes his tush So vulnerable Iraq loves him, Because he's gullible He's the worst yet Bush.
Music by Jerome Kern |