The Closing Argument

Chief Justice, Senators, folks of all sorts
Its great to be here in this kangaroo court

I thought I’d bounce in, now that you’re nearly through
I would have come sooner, but had things to do.

I’m sorry I couldn’t have stayed all along
To show all of the ways that you’ve got me so wrong.

Tell you my story, explain, contradict
Every smidgeon of evidence used to convict

But your rules wouldn’t let me show my side of things
How the work we all do comes with one or two strings

Tell the Illinois folk how some wee quid pro quo
Helps to make our political gardens all grow

Who among us has not heard a lobbyist’s plea
And wondered out loud “hey, what’s in it for me?”

Seen some new legislation, heard a bright new idea?
Without speaking our motto: “ubi est mia”

Yes, my judges and Senators, consider my case
And as you do, think of your own smiling face

Cause’ if I’d done all those things that you say
Well then, who’s got the goods that could put you away?

As Seen on TV

Good Morning America!
How do you do?
It’s great to see all of you
Here on The View

I have so much to say
And a story to tell
A brand new perspective
Perhaps I can sell

Who here reminds you
Of history’s great martyrs?
Cmon, need a hint?
Well, try me out, for starters

They’ll yank me from office
And lock me up tight
My thanks for devoting
My life to your plight

I fought for your freedom,
A selfless, good fella
You’ve seen nothing like it
Since Nelson Mandela

Like Dr. King, Ghandi
And all of those guys
I give, ‘cause I must
Seeking justice, my prize

And those who attack me,
With wicked zeitgeist
Would no doubt do likewise
To good Jesus Christ

I can’t overstate it,
The stakes we face here
The civilized life we
Once knew, Disappeared!

My friends, I’m afraid
you can see where we’re headen
A fate worse than death
A complete Armageddon

But you can do your part
To keep hope alive
For just two easy payments
Of $9.95

Give to Friends of Blagojevich
Please, friends, dig deep.
Cause these lawyers and PR guys,
They don’t come cheap

Yes, we must stick together
Keep evil at bay
Fight for justice and truth,
And The Chicago Way

The Lonely Cowboy

On the great western plains of Illinois
Rides a man, alone. A sad cowboy
By the damnest damn lies were ever contrived
He’s hunted and wanted: dead or alive.

From the streets of Laredo to Springfield’s Dome
There ain’t noplace nowhere that he can call home
So he huddles by campfires and warbles his songs
And tries not to think of the ways he’s been wronged.

Now old Sheriff Ellis and all of his pals
Assemble their posse at Senate Corral
Collecting their feathers and boiling their tar
And hangin their rope from the town’s highest bar

A shadow’s come over our Cowboy’s creased face
Since mean frontier justice took over this place
Cause after his hangin, and he’s in the dust
Ain’t no one to stop ‘em from comin at us.

MacBlago

When last the great Thane of Chicago
Saw the peach-tree woods approach
Anger stirred in old MacBlago
Bringing words of strong reproach.

“Can’t you see, this Evil Axis
Gathering against me so
Is all a plot to raise your taxes
See, we share a common foe.”

Gazing at the gathering arbor:
“How could they not understand
This tragedy is my Pearl Harbor
Your doom, too, is close at hand.”

“We face this epic fall together
My sweet folk of Illinois
Each of us a victim, ever
Man and woman, girl and boy.

As the woods came, every tree
Our old MacBlago turned in scorn
“They’re not fit to speak to me,
A man, who’s not of woman born.”

A Loss for Words

What say you to these charges?
Have you nothing to declare?
You’ve said before there’s nothing here so time to clear the air.

You’ve told us of your strength
Your courage, how you keep your head.
While everyone is losing theirs and blaming you instead.

You cannot wait to tell your side
You said so to us all.
Yet your defense remains unmounted, why, then, would you stall?

Perhaps you were misquoted
And those tapes, they aren’t legit.
But didn’t your own lawyer call your words “unfortunate?”

A lesser man, with naught to say,
Might try to pull a scam
Refuse to play their little games and call the thing a sham.

A lesser man might cause his State
To waste its time and cash
Pursuing an impeachment, air our bureaucratic trash.

Not you, a man so strong of will
Heroic heart, who will not yield.
A man whose actions more than words his true soul has revealed.

I know why the Caged Bird Sings

A free bird drinks at Rosebud on Rush
And dines like a king at Gibsons place
And has enough sense to keep his mouth shut so he can claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks down his federal pen
Dreams of flying on Rush Street again
Escaping his cage for the wonders outside so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful tweet
Of things unknown and done discrete
And his tune is heard in the Dirksen halls for the caged bird sings of the guilty

The free bird fears the caged bird’s song
Exposing things that he’s done wrong
And fears that when it’s over birds may soon be trading places.

But a caged bird cannot feel the rush
Inside the cage, his dreams are crushed
To escape his cage for the wonders outside, he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful tweet
Of things unknown and done discrete
And his tune is heard in the Dirksen halls for the caged bird sings of the guilty.

The Old Bullock

Riches I hold in high esteem,
And Love’s what I adore;
And lust of fame, my fondest dream
I crave it all the more:

And, if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, ‘Stop the witch-hunt then and there
give me presidency!’

Yea, as these things all slip my grasp
‘Tis all that I implore:
My frantic voice in one last gasp
cries more and more and more.

Blagowocky

‘Twas graftig, and the sheckeled bloobs
Did girb and schlurple in the styght
All tizzled were the Strogenoobs
And the patrolls amplrite

“Beware the Blagowock, my son!
The wheels that deal, the outstretched claws!
Beware the Rimidali, shun
The frolloped Madiggauze

He took his lexic sword in hand:
Long time the moptor foe he sought—
So rested by the Beanbon tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in spitzled thought he stood,
The Blagowock, with mouth of bombs,
Came jockling through the tappy wood,
And yortled with its floms!

One, two! One two! and through and through
The lexic blade went testi-tack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went perseuning back.

“And hast thou slain the Blagowock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O futric day! Halloo Vanay!”
He chortled in his joy.

‘Twas graftig, and the sheckeled bloobs
Did girb and schlurple in the styght
All tizzled were the Strogenoobs
And the patrolls amplrite

My Love is Like a Red Red Rose

My love is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June
My love is like [WHO THE BLEEP ARE YOU TALKING TO?]
That’s sweetly played [IS THAT YOUR BLEEPING LAWYER?]

As fair as thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in [YOU TELL THAT SONUVABLEEP TO QUIT MAKING A JACKASS OF HIMSELF ON TV]
And I will love thee still, my dear
Till a’ the [WHAT THE BLEEP ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT]

Till a’ the [NOBODY UNDERSTANDS A BLEEPING WORD YOU SAY ANY MORE]
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun
And I will love thee still, my dear
While [IS THAT ANOTHER BLEEP-BLEEP BLEEPING POEM?]

And fare the weel, my only [BLEEP]
And fare the weel a while!
And I will come again, [I’M BLEEPING OUTA HERE]
Thou’ it were [SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO MY BLEEPING DAD]

State Office for Sale!

State Office for sale!
State Office for sale!
The highest, most golden State Office for sale!
I’m not BLEEPING kidding
So who’ll start the bidding?
You want a contract?
Your funds released?
A Senate Seat?
Oh, I’ve got ‘em lined up from here to there
Lined up to buy my State Office for sale
The highest, most golden State Office for sale!

A Cold Day in Hell

My friends, it’s a cold day in Hell
A fact you all know very well.

Fifteen below, would seem the time
To tip my hair, bow out, resign.

A gift for those whose hearts are cold
Begrudge me earn a little gold.

But I have warmth yet in my heart
A fiery belly, temper tart.

To know that I can make them squirm
Hell, why not seek another term?

Yes, I know just what I will do
I’ll send a friendly, warm BLEEP you.

I’m sure to set their hearts to pound
And heat them up by sticking round.

Fitzgerald Limerick

There once was a punk named Fitzgerald
Whose name was a railroading herald
He filed a complaint
Like he's some kind of saint
He should be tarred, feathered and barreled.

Do Not go Gentle into that Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night

Though prosecutors say they’ve got the goods

If they had anything then they’d indict.

The other pols say I should “do what’s right”

Those bastards only want my BLEEPING job

Do not go gentle into that good night.

My jealous rivals buzz like stinging mites

They never had my vision or my guts

To see the White House squarely in their sights.

I’ve heard some say that Blago’s not too bright

Or maybe has a screw loose in his head

Perhaps Senator Burris can enlighten.

So don’t expect that I will be contrite

And walk away (what’s in this thing for me?)

Until I make a deal then I will fight.

So bring it, bring it on with all your might

Impeachment, accusations tapes and more

I’ll not go gentle into that good night

Rage, rage against the war you would ignite.

Blago at the Podium

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Governor that day

The feds, the House, the papers all were screaming "Pay to Play!"

The criminal charges had been filed, impeachment, moving too

And everyone was wondering just what would Blago do?

The calls for resignation came, a mighty, rising din

From Madigan and Durbin Jesse White and even Quinn

But when the man himself spoke out, we knew the Gov was sunk.

Obama said to “step aside,” so time to pack your trunk.

When Blago called his press conference, we knew the time had come.

This had to be the moment he’d ride off into the sun.

With TV cameras humming and reporters in a rage

Blagojevich, in battle coif stepped up onto the stage.

“My fellow citizens,” he spoke, “I know that you’re in pain.

“Our state is in grave danger and no more will I refrain.”

“Just one thing now can save us, there is now only one ointment.”

“You’ll be relieved to hear, I’ve made my Senate seat appointment.”

The air was thick was tension, even silencing the corps

The only sounds, a couple unhinged jaws hitting the floor

“Our great State needs a Senator, so without more ado”

His steely eyes speak unspoke words: “I’m doing this for you.”

“I give you Roland Burris” Blago solemnly intoned

And paused to let the words sink in, while Illinoisans moaned

“A man of great integrity, of judgment pure and sound,”

“And frankly, he’s the only guy who didn’t turn me down.”

“But look who’s here, I’m shocked, I’m stunned, a very special guest.”

“You must come up at once to speak (we’re really very blessed)”

“Come, don’t be shy, now Bobby Rush, step up onto the stage.”

“And tell us what you have to say, O great, elected Sage.”

So Bobby stepped up to the mic and coolly viewed the crowd

He summoned all the righteousness with which he’d been endowed

With smoldering eyes and presence strong, he looked into our faces

Said, “better support Burris or you’re just a bunch of racists”

Invoking Selma, Birmingham, he pitched another bomb

“opposing Roland Burris means you’re just an Uncle Tom”

“The Senate needs a man of color, needs you to do right by”

“(Who cares that when Obama ran, I voted for some white guy)”

Then Blago sauntered off the stage, his hand brushed back his hair

I could have sworn I saw his middle finger in the air

But poor old Roland’s title, it was not yet set in stone.

The august Senate, not amused, could not this taint condone

When Jesse White refused to be the paper’s guarantor

The Senators, they took the cue to Katy-bar the door

“We’re sorry,” said the Senators, “no taint allowed in here”

Then took their oaths of office and each smiled from ear to ear.

But taint, cannot disqualify, it’s not a fatal flaw

Nobody in the Senate, seems, had stopped to read the law.

They bade him to come in, never admitting they were wrong

With Reid and Durbin saying they both liked him all along

And so, the Land of Lincoln got two Senators at last

And our Trail Blazer’s got another line to mark the past

A man with so much baggage, will he ever be effective?

To Blago, he’s already served his only real objective

Yes, somewhere in our fabled land, the people are contented

Their governments are working, more or less they’re represented

And somewhere civic pride is shining like an ivory tower

But there is no joy in Illinois, our Blago’s still in power.