He, the rumpled bumbler, Stumbled, mumbling, bungling Through his self-made jungle No mote of humility, his abilities Were not inclusive of subtlety. He settled for a public identity Of propriety and normality, Obvious hospitality but falsity Like the nose on his face, exposed.
What a verbose, but artificial Government official he was. His cause was never for us It was for that he was notorious; How laboriously he dissembled. But he resembled his opposition Then took a position of submission Until his mission was complete Then he beat his feet in retreat To those he knew could beat The highest price and that was nice.
Twice as nice for rental cars And pretty movie stars Who werenβt too humble To stumble the red carpet With the rumpled bumbler, Mumbling, no longer bungling Through his self-made jungle. Still no humility, a perfect facility To take from the poor, give to the rich And not care who calls him sonofabitch.