2siTTa

The Poetry of Politics

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:

Listen, my children, don't dare ignore,
The midnight actions of Bush and Gore
In early November, the year ought-ought,
Hard to believe the mess they wrought.
Two billion bucks of campaign bounty
All came down to Palm Beach County.
What result could have been horrider
Than the situation we found in Florider?

Edgar Allen Poe:

Once upon a campaign dreary, one which left us weak and weary
O'er many a quaint and curious promise of political lore
While we nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a yapping
As of some votes overlapping, energy-zapping to the core
"'Tis a mess here," we all muttered, as the network anchors
stuttered, stuttered over Bush and Gore.
Could there be another election with such a case of misdirection,
One with such a weak selection, yet fraught with tension to the core?
Quoth the ravers, "Nevermore."

Edward Lear:

There once was a U.S. election
That called for some expert detection -
How thousands of pollers
Could become old two-holers
Is cause for some late night reflection

Ogden Nash:

I regret to admit that all my knowledge
Is what I learned at Electoral Colleges,
So tell me please, though I hate to troublya,
Will the winner be Al, or will it be Dubya?


Joyce Kilmer:

I thought that I would never see
The networks all so up a tree.


Walt Whitman:

O' Captain! My Captain! our
fearful trip's not done
The ship has weather'd every rack,
but nobody knows who's won.


Alfred Noyes:

And still of an autumn night they say, with the White House on the line,
When the campaign's a ghostly galleon and both candidates cry, "'Tis mine!"
When the road is a ribbon of ballots, all within easy reach,
A highwayman comes riding,
Riding, Riding,
A highwayman comes riding, and punches two holes in each.

Dr. Seuss:

I cannot count them in a box
I cannot count them with a fox
I cannot count them by computer
I will not with a Roto-Rooter
I cannot count them card-by-card
I will not 'cause it's way too hard
I cannot count them on my fingers
I will not while suspicion lingers.
I'll leave the country in a jam -
I can't count ballots, Sam-I-Am.