I hear Don bet Warren on the slope of her blood,
And got back the news that his face is all mud,
And now he's squirming o'er plunking down cash,
Saying he'll wait till the next 'lection bash,
'Cause Don like the Pope is never quite wrong,
And only pays off if it makes his rep strong.
I speak with experience of my own bets with Don,
Like when he told me at the Hither-and-Yon,
"I'll plop in your hand a cool million cash,
If you can prove Barack was just talkin' trash,
On his Honolu' birth the same as he said,
And not in dark Kenya with manger for bed."
So I purloined a copy of Obama's birth cert.,
And showed it to Don over our next dessert.
He put on some glasses and frowned for a time,
Then said, "What's a paper but photoshopped rhyme?
Proof of this type is poor fun of rank mirth.
What good's a scrap? Bring me vid of his birth!"
But video back then was really not great,
Unless your doctor had a good Super Eight,
So I asked Don if we could make a new bet,
And he came right back with what caused him much fret:
"I dare you to prove that the inaug' of Barack
Drew more folks than mine which is nonsense and schlock."
This I figured was a quick piece of cake:
There's video galore, and none of it fake!
But I brought it to Don, who just shook that great mane:
"But who are these people? Have you even one name?
I'll tell you who: they're the DOJ mob!
Loser-crats all lying down on the job!"
Don gave one last chance though it came pretty high:
"Find me a leader, Phil, who's greater than I,
Who in just two years ever made such a mark.
I mean, go and rummage through history's whole ark."
So off I went, looking till mine eyes did ache,
All the time thinking of that million at stake.
With triumph on face I went back to ol' Don,
And slid him my answer and data thereon:
"Atilla -- of course! What a dumbbell am I!
How could it be that I forgot to him scry?"
He grabbed his checkbook, muttered, "Son of a gun,"
And made me wealthy on the rep of a Hun.