‘‘Twas the night before MAGA And the end of the show Not a commie was sleeping Not even Joe.
All the libs were trembling Their jaws held agape As new polls were posted Much closer, but still mostly fake
All the pundits were pacing As signs decked the lawns Crazy Nancy was tense Sat at the salon
The independents were debating Which path they would choose For freedom and country Or abide the fake news?
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I grabbed my red hat and went to see what was the matter.
Outside the windows I saw headlights flash, Engines rattled the shutters and my Sunday Gunday cache.
The moon on the breast of my MAGA-hot wife, Distracted me a moment as the streets came to life,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a Trump truck parade with Amish buggies and Yuengling beer!
And a little old driver, such a deplorable chump, I knew in a moment it must be our TRUMP.