© Copyright 2005 Poetry4.com
311. Donald

Oh Donald!  Oh Donald!
Who does your hair?
Yes, that mop atop your head
With so much money
And access to only the best
Your hair would surely upset the dead
Sure you’re the man
Who has “trumped” all others
Especially those with big money
But truth be told
Did they just quit in spite
Because you hair look so funny?
We adore your success
And do buy your books
Your TV show is simply a killer
Maybe you’re just preparing
For your own rendition
Of Michael Jackson’s thriller
So take heed man of wealth
Who sentences begin in I
And always end with me
Change that funky hair
Or just cut it all off
Your hair wasn’t meant to be


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