Pig Roast

Donald J Pig

This is a roast of a small-fingered man
Who fancies that he’s Mister Big
He thinks he casts pearls before the swine
But he is the one who’s a pig

He operates with a simpleton’s mind
And an ego as fragile as a twig
Bombast and boast are the tools of his trade
When he fails, claims the system is rigged

He never learned the first lesson in life
When down in a hole, cease to dig
Rats wouldn’t nest in the hair on his head
‘Twould be better to wear powdered wig

He tweets like a bird in a gilded cage
This canary in coal mine … this prig
He’s risen to rank far exceeding his worth
But deeds make the man, not the gig

©2018 Tom Cordle

This entry was posted in Poetry, Politics. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Pig Roast

  1. Love it! Miss seeing you my friend and hearing you sing!


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