By: Cedric McClester

Now that the tea’s been spilt
It’s conscientiousness of guilt
Like a game machine you tilt
His image can’t be rebuilt
Although his many apologists
Will no doubt still insist
While balling up their fists
Simply, he must resist

Now that the tea’s been spilt
We see a patchwork quilt
The knife’s in to the hilt
In time we’ll watch him wilt
By now we all should know
The rules of quid-pro-quo
His nose is bound to grow
Remember who told you so

Now that the tea’s been spilt
We see him walking on a stilt
So we know what’s under his kilt
And he isn’t that well built
So let me take time to expand
By asking what manner of man?
He’s used to having the upper hand
But they’ll impeach him on demand

Now that the tea’s been spilt
And everything’s atilt
His voice has a weary lilt
Who else must he try to jilt?
All his sycophants
Must be peeing in their pants
As he carries on and rants
They may not get a second chance





           Cedric McClester, copyright © 2019.  All rights reserved.