The President Has An Awkward Afternoon
The Donald would have been the first one to say
That he hadn’t had his very best start to the day.
His struggles with the sheets had left him gasping for air, And it was only after Ivana adjusted his hair
That the mysterious curtain was lifted
(There really had been a curtain, The Donald insisted).
But now he really need to think
About the alleged Chinese link
To the Russian whack back attack
Which was somehow related to a hack.
A what? It sounded sports related,
Something that The Donald really hated.
It was so confusing this League of Nations
Monitored by CIA listening stations.
And from their embassy came the Chinese
Greeted by The President, apparently pleased.
“Hurrah” he exclaimed “let’s see what we’ve got
Something sweet, something sour, something spicy and hot.”
“No Mr President, I think you’re confused.”
The delegation were impassive despite being abused.
“Mr President, these allegations we fiercely reject.
They’re entirely unfounded, you’ve lost our respect.
And as for the suggestion we’ve brought you a treat,
We’d ask you kindly not to repeat
The expletive filled rant that went on for so long
When you phoned the wrong number, and who’s Mr Wong?
And why were you screeching things not very nice?
And ranting about spare ribs and special fried rice?
You were talking to our Premier, Mr Zedong.
Not some takeaway shopkeeper, you’ve got it all wrong.
So you owe an apology, nothing less will do.”
Th Donald was struggling, trying to think it through.
A Premier? A what? A Mr Ze-who?
Was this fictitious or factitious? Who knew?
The Donald smiled his smile and sank to the ground.
As he slowly turned his wig back around.
Until it covered his face as before,
And he swiftly fell asleep curled up on the floor.