HOME ON THE RANGE


I dreamed I was home on the range in Texas --
A million fine fiddlers played "Cripple Creek,"

There couldn't be that many bib overalls
In the world -- all striped like a pillow tick,

The dancing went on for a full four years --
I thought of George W's inaugural balls,

"May we all get taxi relief," I prayed --
"Speeches be spiced with howdy's and y'all's,"

I wondered, "Will the White House flagpole hold
A single, lone star?" -- probably not,

"Will George W. wear his boots? -- I doubt it" --
"Maybe low-quarter shoes like the Quartermaster's got,"

"Did I hear correctly? -- a perjurer giving pardons?" --
Slick Willy, true to form 'til the end,

Maybe President Bush can undo some folly,
Clinton's broken every rule that he tried to bend.

by D. Edgar Murray 01/22/2001.