By Russ Vaughn
I never thought there’d ever be
A thing I could dread more,
Than the horror I might live to see:
A President Al Gore.
But when Kerry got the Dem’s pick,
Vying for our veteran votes,
Like other vets I re-upped quick
For a tour on Swiftees’ boats.
We handed him his haughty head
In November 2004,
Made him pay for all the lies he’d said
About us in our war.
We knew this colorful fellow;
He wasn’t red white and blue;
He was Hanoi red and yellow,
Or any shade would get him through.
Again he’s shown his colors true,
Neither olive green nor camo;
No, more a patrician, elitist blue,
To give him academic ammo.
Angry now he stands defying,
On millions of glowing tubes,
Telling us our eyes are lying:
He didn’t call our troops all boobs.