“This ain’t who we are” is what I keep hearing,
Regarding that crowd carousing and jeering,
That with aforethought malice stormed our Bastille,
And the Speaker’s cool podium picked up to steal.
Don Junior and Prez Joe proclaim this ain’t us,
Like kids caught smoking at the back of the bus.
If not us then who? is what I’d like to ask,
Are Cubans the ones to be taken to task?
The riot crowd looked like the guys at the bar,
Caps and chin-grass, dirty jackets ajar,
Philosphers who’ll bet you two shots of rye
That Trump gets rated with Abe Lincoln as high.
They’re guys who’ve grown up with Clint E. as Harry,
Who figure fast justice as work quite merry,
Best left to a man with his dame and a dream,
Not cops who arrive at the end of the scene,
Guys who cut crap and get a dirty job done,
By showing damn lib’rals a Magnum fat gun.
No, t’would be tough to find a better selection
A better sample or closer cross-section
Of Americus Politicus doing his thing,
Be it the hard rightist or loony left wing,
Looting a Walgreen’s to protest police states,
Raiding a Congress because Pence accepts slates.
Get used to this, folks, ‘cause it’s who we are,
People who riot or wish to from afar.
This is what happens when the rich get so rich
That squeezed good people will attend any pitch
That points out gov’ment as the cause of their plight,
So some of them double their fists and go fight.