Shadowy Mitt Romney (With Apologies To Robert Louis Stevenson)
By Madeleine Begun Kane
I have a little binder that is filled with clever gals,
But what can be the use of them — I’ll have to ask my pals.
They are very, very diff’rent. They are poor, and I am rich.
And I make them jump before me. They refuse, then they’re a bitch.
The funniest thing about them is the way they do their jobs.
Not at all like proper workers, such as Teds and Gregs and Bobs.
And they sometimes shoot up taller while they’re asking for a raise.
But to me they’re always little, barely worth my regal gaze.
They haven’t got a notion of how peons ought to work.
I can always make a fool of them — my second-fav’rite perk.
They long to stay beside me. But I wonder if they’re dykes.
Yet they shamefully leave early. They must feed their spouse and tykes.
One morning very early, before the sun was up
I rose and said, “You’re fired!” Why? They never made me sup.
Then I found another binder to replace those vacant spots:
A tome that’s filled with women — desp’rate feminine have-nots.
(Related Post: Limerick Ode To Lady-Filled Binders)
(Linked at DVerse Poets Pub)
