You gotta just love these guys with ambition,
Whose rhetoric alone pulls off their mission.
Far easier t'is than harvesting votes,
Mugging for selfies and caressing rank goats,
Debating opponents and with unions lunching
Sipping warm beer and cold bratties munching.
So why not proclaim oneself king of the land,
Take a swell solemn oath and strike up the band?
For ol' Napoleon it worked well enough:
Leader-king-emperor, straight up the bluff,
Then bark and fetch for the Yankees as Fido,
Which seems to sit well with President Guaido.
Manager-of-the-year Maduro sure ain't,
A glowering Trump without the hair paint,
Ham-fisted and arrogant, too Latin by half,
His rhetoric soaring and good for a laugh,
And yet it's his country for better or worse,
And for Vens to decide if he's Churchill or curse.
'Course, south of the border you never quite know
If the econ's that poor or who's running the show
Is some latter-day Nixon who said to his team,
"That country's toast, make the economy scream."
And if the new prez is a self-proclaimed man,
Yank dips count their blessings: it could be Af-stan.