This tune has been around since the first Roosevelt administration (Teddy); this is an update.

Look here, Gee Dubya, see what you done,
You and your pals left the country in ruins,
Now you're gone, so glad you're gone.

Working two jobs now, sixteen hours a day,
Mortgage overdue and I got no way to pay,
I'm glad he's gone, so glad he's gone.

Wages so low and prices so high,
Costs too much to live but I can't afford to die,
I'm glad he's gone, so glad he's gone.

Dubya says to Cheney, what'm I gonna do?
No one to lie to, now my term is through.
I'm glad he's gone, so glad he's gone.

Listening to our phone calls, reading our mail,
Torturing prisoners, building secret jails,
I'm glad he's gone, so glad he's gone.

Break out the whiskey, pour the champagne,
Dubya's gone to Texas, he won't be back again.
I'm glad he's gone, so glad he's gone.

(BRIDGE (optional): Ding, dong, the witch is dead . . . .)

Dubya's in Texas, taking his rest,
*Obama's in the White House, cleaning up the mess.
I'm glad he's gone, so glad he's gone.

Writing this song in 2008,
I know it's too early but I just can't wait,
I'm glad he's gone, so glad he's gone.
*Using the name of GWB's probable successor. Feel free to substitute "McCain," "Clinton," or whoever.
I owe thanks to Faith Petric for pointing out that there's nothing so wonderful about coming up with original tunes for one's songs -- on the contrary, a song can spread much more easily if people already know the tune (gee, imagine that!), so unless you're a tunesmith like Schubert or Paul McCartney, someone who's likely to add a real thing of beauty to our stock of melodies, just pick a tune people already know and save us all some work. (She didn't put it that way at all, but that's the way I learned it!)

So here's something that fits "The Yellow Rose of Texas." Additions and changes are welcome.

He's the torture queen of Texas,
The leader of the free,
Defending us from terror
And religious tyranny,
With wiretaps and photo ops
And trials in secrecy,
The torture queen of Texas
Will save democracy.

He's the worst of all our Presidents,
His mind's a welcome mat
For every rightwing nutjob
And scheming plutocrat;
You may talk of Herbert Hoover,
And he for sure was bad,
But the torture queen of Texas
Is the worst we've ever had.

The poor are getting poorer
The rich don't have to care
They're making lots of money
He and Dick will get their share
Corruption's such an ugly word
It's nicer far to say
They're only doing business
In the good ol' Texas way.


Our allies are embarrassed
They used to be our friends
They helped us in Afghanistan
But there the story ends.
He said "Invade Iraq with me,"
They said, "Just tell us why,
Just give us one good reason,
And please try not to lie."


Way down in old New Orleans,
The levees were decayed,
Any little hurricane
Would blow them all away,
But the torture queen was busy
Playing air guitar that day,
And the people that got flooded out
Are paupers anyway.


Note: "Torture queen" is used not as a slam on queer or trans people, but simply as slang, for its transgressive savor; and I suppose its gender helps connect this parody to the original song. These two qualities make it a better expression than, say, "torture fan" or "torture king." Anyone who finds it offensive or objectionable is welcome to change it.
Midterm 'lections comin' up,
My polls a-goin' down,
Democrats are sayin' they're gonna
Run me outa town;
I need somethin' to pick me up,
I feel so sad 'n' sore,
I think I'll just have me a little war.

Just a little war, just a little war,
Don't care who we have it with,
I don't care what it's for.
Please just let me have this one
And I won't ask for more,
I just wanna have a little war.

I know that in the past sometimes
I've had a few too many;
Good thing I won't have to pay,
They cost a pretty penny!
Our kids'll pay, some with their lives,
But that's what kids are for,
I just wanna have a little war.


War's the way to get the people
Pullin' all together,
Just the way a flock of sheep'll
Follow the bellwether.
He's nothin' but a well-fed ram,
No more brains than a half-baked ham
But he can lead his flock right into war.


Some men lead by talkin' 'bout
The things we all hold dear;
Me, I get more mileage
From the old appeal to fear.
Osama! Nine-eleven!
They're headin' for our shores!

Don't you think we need a little war?



Gan Ainm

September 2010

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