The Third of November,
In the year of two-zero-two-oh.
I’m quite sure we’d regret
If we ever forget
The day Don was defeated by Joe.
It had been four long years
Full of anger and tears
Thanks to Russians and racists and crooks
Who had made their selection,
And caused the election
To be one for history books.
It just didn’t make sense
That a schmuck so immense
Could have made it to DC at all.
But we stopped asking why
When folks started to die
And our national pride took a fall.
We were mad, we were scared,
At the monsters who dared
Show their face in the broad light of day.
Now that Trump was in charge,
They were all living large.
Neo-Nazis could now have their say.
We complained, we beseeched;
Yes, we even impeached,
But his cronies defended him still.
The result was no soap.
We were all losing hope
But there is a way, if there’s a will.
When that role Biden filled,
True, we weren’t all that thrilled,
But when Sanders and Warren, et al
Failed to get the top spot,
We all shrugged, said, “Why not?”
And declared Mr. B was our pal.
In the days that preceded
The third, we all heeded
The words of our heroes and friends.
That the polls are all phooey
(Like when Truman beat Dewey)
And that we could decide how this ends.
And—oh boy!—what a night!
As we huddled in fright,
The polls closed and they started the count.
One for Don, one for Joe.
Not one soul seemed to know
Who’d end up with the proper amount.
So, we all went to bed,
Our hearts heavy with dread,
And we hoped, come the morning, we’d know.
But when next rose the sun,
Seemed the count wasn’t done.
Neither one had hit two-seven-oh.
The Fourth of November,
And watching the states which might swing.
First AZ, then MI
Fin’ly went to our guy.
Yes, eternally, hope seems to spring.
As the long day wore on,
Things looked lousy for Don.
It seemed sure he was headed for sorrow.
But the count in NV
Was a slow one, so we
Once again had to wait till tomorrow.
Remember, remember, the FIFTH of…
No, on second thought, don’t bother.
Pretty much nothing happened all day.
Now, the sixth, I will say
Was a memorable day,
Because two states that once had been red
Quickly shifted to blue;
Now the whole wide world knew
That this thing had been turned on its head.
Then, on day number seven,
Month number eleven,
(Four days later, for those taking notes)
Came the end of this mania,
Thanks to old Pennsylvania
And their twenty electoral votes.
Yes, the darkness had passed,
We saw daylight, at last,
And the Trumpers were fresh out of luck.
Cuz their bigoted hero,
Far from two-seven-zero,
Would go down as a one term lame duck!
That fateful November,
And states marked in red or in blue.
Things turned out how they ought…
But it can’t be forgot
That we still have so much work to do.