The Gal on the Flying Trapeze

                  THE GAL ON THE FLYING TRAPEZE

 

She cries on the air

With the greatest of ease.

That daring old gal –

What a Hillary tease!

Her movements are graceful,

There's no hint of sleaze.

And the votes she has stolen away.

 

Now when it got out

That a tear could so please

The rest of the crew

Jumped upon it like fleas.

So bawling and weeping

With slobbering wheeze

All the candidates did follow suite.

 

There was Mitty and Mikey and John-John;

There was 'Bama and Fred Thompson, too.

When they started to sob

They caught on with the mob

And the whole thing did sound like a zoo --- oh!

 

She cries on the air.

What a womanly wile.

Now there's no room

For a grin or a smile.

Huckabee looks like

He's on his last mile –

Guilliani needs more handkerchiefs.

 

The feminine side

Of this closely-fought race

Is bringing us near

To a soggy disgrace.

There's no telling how

Anyone can save face

And Mount Rushmore will soon start to sniff.

 

There was Visine at every convention

And the Kleenex ran out much too soon.

There was no way to stop

This affair with a mop;

It would flood out the driest sand dune --- 0h!

 

She cries on the air

And our enemies gloat.

If she's elected

They'll soon get her goat.

A masculine hand

Is what keeps us afloat

And I don't mean her husband – oy vay!

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