'Twas The Night After Impeachment

As Americans nestled, all snug in their beds,
Visions of bond yields danced in their heads.
I sat in my cottage watching CNN:
"For Bill Clinton, this is now the end.

Having lowered politics to sexual chatter,
And then having lied on a material matter.
No matter the departure of Samuel Dash -
His Administration had to come to a crash."

But what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But that sad pudgy man, wearing a leer.
He seemed to be without shame,
And yelled out to reporters by name:

"Hi Sam, Hi George and Hi Bill!
Hi Cokie and Allan, Hi to you darlin' Jill!
I have one thing to say before I dash away, y'all,
Mr. Pokey's to blame for my rise and fall.

He dragged me around like a dog on a leash,
Till I found my life's proper niche:
I needed to be where the babes are,
And I could never be a movie star.

So I entered the other profession with the most chicks:
There are plenty of babes who like politics!
And I found that enough fell in love with me,
So I could move into the White House in '93."

The reporters all wrote as he unloaded his soul,
Taking in the depravity he spewed as a whole.
He then paused as he filled up his belly,
With a nearby donut that was filled with red jelly.

The reporters then paused in their work,
As Bill continued, being a jerk:
"I then found darlin' Miss Lewinsky;
She took good care of Pokey n' me.

So I did it, I cheated and lied,
And in the end, my Presidency died.
But I'll tell you something that isn't well known:
It was all worth it, just to get blown!"

The reporters grabbed Bill by the scruff of the neck,
And he shouted and screamed, "Oh Damn!" and "Oh Heck!"
They then carried him to a vat full of tar,
Which was being stirred by Judge Kenneth Starr.

They then did their palpable worst:
They dumped Bill in, not feet, but hair first.
They then dragged him out, as if on a tether,
And covered him in a suit of pigeon feather.