Come and listen to my story 'bout a boy named Bush.

Sung to the tune of The Beverly Hillbillies Theme Song

Come and listen to my story 'bout a boy named Bush.
IQ was less than zero and his head was up his tush.
He drank like a fish while drivin' all about.
But, that didn't matter'cuz his daddy bailed him out.

DUI, that is.
Criminal record.
Hush money.
Cover-up.

Well, the first thing you know the little monkey goes to Yale.
Couldn't spell his name but they never let him fail.
Spends all his time hangin'out with kids of priv'leged folk.
And that's when he learns how tosnort a line of coke.

Blow, that is.
White gold.
Nose candy.

The next thing you know there's a war in Vietnam.
Kin folks say, "George, stay at home with Mom."
Let the common people get mangled, maimed and scarred.
We'll buy you a commission in the Texas Air Guard.

Cushy, that is.
Country clubs.
Mothballed planes.
More nose candy.

Well, it's twenty years later and the monkey gets a little bored.
He trades in the booze, claims that Jesus is his Lord.
He said, "Now the White House is the place I wanna be.
So he rounded up his daddy's friends - they're called the GOP.

Fat cats, that is.
Racists.
Robber Barons.

Come November 7, the election ran late.
Kin folks said "Jeb, give the fool your state!"
"Don't let those colored folks get into the polls."
So they put up barricades so they couldn't punch their holes.

Chads, that is.
Duval County.
Miami-Dade.

Before the votes were counted the five Supremes stepped in.
Told all the voters "Hey, we want George to win."
"Stop counting votes!" was their solemn invocation.
And that's how the monkey finally got to be leader of the nation.

Rigged, that is.
Illegitimate.
Spurious.

Y'all come vote now. Ya hear?

BWAHAHAHAHA!!!!! :D