All Hail The God King Romney!
A shadow has been lifted
A rider hastens from the West
The ashen sands have shifted
Victory his only quest
Forsaken once before
By citizens unwise
Our faith he shall restore
Arrest our ship's demise
For love of sport
By duty bound
To stand athwart
He shall be crowned
Senate Romneymentum begins —> pic.twitter.com/AKpf66mUur
— Frank Thorp V (@frankthorp) November 13, 2018
Deliver Us, O Willard!
A wicked storm hath fled the swamp for now.
A wicked folk on which the light of day
Is wasted, for whom no witness would avow,
Hath stumbled into fortune's grace; a true gourmet
Of gentleman, a noble beefcake, rare
In breed and body, humbly thrust upon
Our plate, that we may hunger not — for hair
So lush and silver, eyes by angels drawn!
Deliver us, O Willard, from the gaping jaws
Of treason's beast! Ascend your rightful throne!
Commit with force to rectify our laws,
To fertilize these cursèd lands ungrown!
Alight Rafalca, loyal steed, and claim
Your kingdom, nurtured now in freedom's flame.
Shame On Us, Who Shunned Thy Grace!
What might have been, ye studly Mormon sage,
What shackles we'd have shed, and triumphs tasted,
Famines fed; our guilt you must assuage,
Our sins forgive! It's said that freedom's wasted
on the free, and 2012's result agrees.
Shame! Shame on us, who shunned thy grace!
Curse our wretched souls, who scorned thy pleas,
And mocked thy gaffes! Time cannot erase
what's past, unsate Obama's Marxist lust,
Nor Biden's odd proclivities, alas!
Barack the wind he did command —to gust!
The hurricane he conjured came to pass,
And breached the levies of your just campaign,
Our joyous future drowned in vengeance rain.
They Dressed As Binders, Criticized
You tried to hire female staff — for shame!
They dressed as binders, criticized — the fools!
The 1980's called for you by name!
The message: Putin barks, but lacks the tools
To threaten our democracy — like ISIS
He is junior varsity, Obama
chided childishly; where you saw crisis,
He sought flexibility — from drama,
Lest he scuttle plans to carpet bomb
Tehran with crates of cash; Crimea plundered,
Goutha gassed, Yemen turned to Somme.
Intellects unbound may well have wondered:
Who was he to silence your alarm?
"Red lines" crossed, our crafty Chamberlain
Seduced the Blob, young scribes his charm
Beguiled; Rome in flames, a strummèd mandolin.
O! How they cower now at Putin's might!
And whisper out of sight: "Mitt was right."
