This campaign discredits the critics' old gripe
That candidates' words are nothing but tripe.
It's clear what they say does indeed pack a punch,
Just only when packaged to produce a loud crunch,
Highlighting e'lan and the candidate's grain,
His peeves, tastes and grit, above all the mundane.
I refer of course to that vid late conspired,
The bus pulling in as the audio fired
A blabfest of guys being guys at their worst:
Blabbing of women as of choice liverwurst.
Talk backed by vid for versimilitude,
To give us pure Don at his guy-shtick most crude.
Eleven years of journey did that bus tape see,
Like a note in a bottle on the media's sea,
Washed on the beach before second debate,
But intact and on time, like FedEx air freight.
Or maybe, just maybe, it got squirreled away,
Held in reserve for a campaign rainy day.
Which lends some cred to Trump's "Nice, three on one,"
Regarding how hard that debate made him run,
And while I opine ol' Don is a turkey,
He has a point when he says it's beef jerky
Into which by the media he has been turned,
By establishment bigwigs, by the party he's spurned.
After all that drubbing you'd think that his polls,
Would tank down to nothing among U.S. proles.
Yet well-loved is he by the outraged and mad,
Whom the gang-up on Don makes only more rad,
And who on the Ninth when Trump won't concede,
Will hear him shout "Rigged!" and nod quite agreed.
So don't be surprised at the next time around,
When Hillary's critics and wars will abound,
That the bitterest Republican comes out on top,
The one most irate and who knows how to chop,
Endorsed by ol' Don who's lighted the way:
But for his mouth he'd have conquered the fray.
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