There was a crooked man, who wore a crooked smile,

His crooked loans made money on the Boardwalk mile.

His crooked university proved he was a louse,

So crooked were his tax returns he locked them in his house.

He hired crooked grifters, bought election dirt with style,

His crooked men now jailbirds, he rewarded them with bile.

His crooked thoughts made true from false, called John McCain a mouse,

He was a crooked president, underfoot in every house.

Tabloid tales were crooked news, to heap up fear in piles,

His crooked orders teased his bullies to augment their files.

His crookedness, for vanity, salved a spiritually guilty cause:

For race, and crooked pride he kept from immigrants a house,

His crooked heart ignored the law and forthright jailed the child.

Towards FBI and agencies his crooked spite was deeply wild

With crookedness, transferring funds and titles from the statehouse;

Sent crooked lawyers on its business, obstructed counsel from the White House.

The crooked man made crooked friends, schooled to practice every wile,

While not content to bend a crook in every American child,

In parties, and at Justice; now crooked as its leading louse,

The crooked man sought foreign help. What stopped him is the House.

Bruce Russell Sr.,


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