Robert Ippaso

Naples, Florida

Scot to the Bone - in Trump's own words

You know that I won
Some say I clear lost
Their whines so exhaust
Wrong man they just crossed.

How wrong they all are
Fools to a man
When I've only began
To work out my plan.

Just wait and see
The Don at his best
When put to the test
I’ll make them all stressed.

First up I'll sue
Reverse the dumb vote
My win then promote
Un-float their small boat.

That all said and done
If not quite enough
I may tweak the math
Then get rough and tough.

Call up our fine troops
Coerce the weak judges
Then when in my clutches
It's me or coarse crutches.

I think that will do it
But should I be wrong
There's a place I belong
The land of the strong.

A country of Lochs
Of moors and steep hills
Abundant in stills
Real folk with few frills.

That land I can buy
In fact much I own
And Celt to the bone
I’ll claim Scotland's throne.

A great fallback plan
Melania as queen
All day she can preen
Unspoken just seen.

Once king I can rule
Play golf and write laws
As a man without flaws
Days filled with applause.

My plans fully set
I'll ponder and see
For whatever will be
Yet I’m ready to flee.
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