By Philip Kraske
I was there, and it wasn't pretty,
Twenty big dudes in ties from the city,
Sweating like pigs in their seersucker suits,
Comb-over guys all shaking in boots,
Like thieves caught stealing an old lady's purse,
Now paying piper, expecting the worst.
They gave ol' Hillary a healthy long clap,
Hoping that maybe she'd cut them some slack,
But when she smiled like Mother Superior,
Everyone knew it was just an ulterior.
She opened her notes with a thumping great whack,
And half the room jumped as if sat on a tack.
No comments:
Post a Comment
All comments are welcome... especially any tips regarding corruption of the courts in Los Angeles. Anonymous tips are fine. One simple way to do it is from internet cafes, etc.