Did you know on the ticket Don Trump wanted me?
No, he didn't offer gold or get down on one knee,
Just sent me a text message as is his wont,
"Call me," he said, "if the prospects don't daunt."
I must've read and re-read it ten times at least
Before I agreed to a quick chat with the beast.
.
"Why me?" I asked Don, and expressed my surprise:
"I don't have a good suit and only three ties."
He needed, he said, to shore up demographics,
Needed charm and looks, Midwest geographics:
"You're the guy to sell me to silver-haired nags,
The ladies who knit socks and read gossip mags."
.
Well, it's true I could certainly help him out there,
Then spend some years living from the Oval a hair,
Since it's well known our Don's not in first blush;
Soon the Grim Reaper might give him the bum's rush.
So I said, "I'm in," and bought a suit off the rack
On a loan from Don, which I'd have to pay back.
.
But no prob', I adjusted to the next phase,
And awaited the convention's wordy grand praise.
But Trump groupies gazed at me with eyes so blackish:
Ivanka with disdain said my suit looked so "rackish."
Don Junior weighed in and said three ties weren't enough,
"Only have one neck," I said; he left in a huff.
.
Melania supported me, saying I have a great bod',
She being a woman who can tell trout from cod,
But this led to crisis, as the news reached ol' Don,
Who at dinner said, "Mel', you putting me on?"
But to play it safe, a text he later sent:
"You're terrif' but you're out, and pay back the cash lent."
