Poor Donald. What took place?
You received the ruling of another case.
Consequences sometimes can be hard to face.
Poor Donald.

Poor Donald. What'll you do
Now that all your lies are catching up with you?
Accountability can be a dream come true.
But poor Donald.

Poor Donald. Don't say, "Pshaw!"
Conspiracy and fraud are both against the law.
The judge got fed up hearing all your blah, blah, blah.
So, poor Donald.

Poor Donald. Though you fight,
I guess that facts and truth can be your kryptonite.
The judge was baffled that you weren't at all contrite.
Yes, poor Donald.

Poor Donald. Do not pout.
Based on past experience there is no doubt
That donors and the RNC will bail you out.
Still, poor Donald.

Poor Donald. Hey, what now?
You'll be back in court, but it's amazing how
Folks can still consider you their sacred cow.
Yet, poor Donald.

-by Bob B (2-17-24)

(The format of this poem was inspired by a verse in Stephen Sondheim's song "Poor Baby.")