Could be, you know?

There’s voting due on Tuesday

We might know right away, soon as it shows

Blue wave cannonballing from every state

Trump will berate, as pundits suppose

Who knows?

A victory is within reach

Subpoenas ready to impeach, Hegseth should duck

With a new Congress there’s a miracle due

Accountability true, to those evil fucks!

Could it be? Yes, it could!

Blue wave’s coming that is good

Can hardly wait

Blue wave’s coming, don’t know yet for each state

But it is gonna be great

With each scan and mail drop

Ballots mingle round the clock, check the returns

Blue wave’s coming, all next week

Count the votes, catch the wave

Surfing on home

Around each corner

As polls long lines get greater

MAGA will crater and lose

Will it be? Check the score

Maybe just a few seats more, it’ll get there

Come on, blue wave, sweep on in, let us win

Johnson spies a new dem House chair

The polls are humming

A big blue wave is coming

You know?

A victory is within reach

Subpoenas ready to impeach

On Tuesday night

On Tuesday night

On Tuesday night

Parody lyrics copyright T. McNally 2026

[Tune: Hymn for a Sunday Evening - Ed Sullivan; Bye Bye Birdie]

Who to vote for Senate in Alaska?

Dan Sullivan

MAGA republicans are going with

Dan Sullivan

Dan J Sullivan

uh...

Dan S Sullivan

[voters]

Um, Uh Dan Sullivan

S Sullivan

J Sullivan

Dan Dan -Sul-Sul

S Sullivan, J Sullivan

Gonna split the vote for Sullivan

How could any Dem candidate be

Half as fortunate as she?

Mary Peltola is set to win

MAGA picks are gonna thin

by Dan Sullivan!

Dan Sullivan, Dan Sullivan

We’re gonna beat Dan Sullivan!

Ooooohhh! Ah

[spoken]

Alaskans got tariffs

High bills to pay

And now this…

Soon we will recall

Election day this fall

...Trump we hate you...

Dan Sullivan

Parody lyrics copyright T. McNally 2026

[Tune: Girl from Ipanema]

Tall and dark and fascist leaning

The son of Bolsonaro is leaving

Without his passport

But Trump’s entry visa says ‘ok’

When he lost Brazil’s election

The government went right to action

To seize his passport and bring

indictments his way

Yes, cause he laundered big money

Lied about Lula da Silva

Trump gave him amnesty gladly

When his fellow felon lost sway

Brazil wants to jail him today

Tall and dark and fascist leaning

Flavio Bolsonaro has landed

At Miami airport for all the world to see

He fled his country

And Trump wants him free

Parody lyrics copyright T. McNally 2026

Oh, dined at Mar-A-Lago, then golfed on the beach

Didn’t get to sleep all night

Posting on Truth Social why he bent the knee

He’s Putin’s good employee - that’s right

Trump backs the U.S.S.R.

We see what a traitor you are, boy

He’s backing the U.S.S.R. (Yeah)

Old President Reagan, he wouldn’t know the place

His party has been left to rot

His “Tear down this wall” speech is a memory these days

To a Russian rival we’ve forgot

We’re backing the U.S.S.R.

We see what a traitor you are, boy

Shame on the U.S.

Shame on the U.S.

Backing the U.S.S.R.

Well Ukraine drones knock refineries out

They’ll fight while the West betrays

And Moscow burns while Trump tweets and shouts

The midterms are just weeks, no days away

Aw come on!

Ho yeah!

Ho yeah!

Ho ho yeah!

Yeah yeah!

Yeah he backs the U.S.S.R.

We see what a traitor you are, boy

Backing the U.S.S.R.

Well Ukraine drones knock refineries out

They’ll fight while the West betrays

And Moscow burns while Trump tweets and shouts

The midterms are just weeks, no days away

Oh let me tell you, red states

He’s a traitor!

He’s backing the U.S.S.R.

To Putin’s glee

Yeah, backing the U.S.S.R.

Parody lyrics copyright T. McNally 2026

Oh where, oh where has the Venezuelan Oil gone?

Oh where, oh where can it be?

Our memories are short and Trump’s con is long

Oh where, oh where can it be?

Oh where, oh where has that heavy crude gone

Oh where, oh where can it be?

Our diesel ran short and the price rose along

Oh where, oh where can it be?

Oh why, oh why do we need Putin’s oil?

Oh why, oh why can it be?

Ukraine’s being stiffed and Europe is miffed

Trump shills for Russia you see

Oh where, oh where has the rule of law gone?

Oh where, oh where can it be?

Corruption can end if the voters send

A blue wave for democracy

VOTE BLUE

parody lyrics copyright T. McNally 2026

[Tune: Guys and Dolls Finale]

When you see a gal call the POTUS her pal

You can bet that she’s doing it for some dough

There’s a new blonde at the presser lectern

Chances she’s really dumb like all MAGA scum at a job she can’t earn

When a press secretary ignores questions, you see

While reporters saw a know-nothing and a shill

Call it sad, call it funny

But it’s better than even money

That the gal’s only doing for some dough

With her scripted words, Ms. Zacharia was heard

Called the president her husband - a slip we suppose

Old talking points fell on the outlet’s deaf ears

While Fox and Breitbart wrote down her brain farts

with dutiful prose

When a bar exam seems a fake or a scam

You can bet that she’s claiming it for some dough

Call it sad, call it funny

But it’s better than even money

That the gal’s only doing for

some dough

some dough

some dough

The gal’s only doing for some dough

Parody lyrics copyright T. McNally 2026

Russian havens, East of Ukraine

Data centers where bot dis-info flows

It’s an old trick, a new thread they will seize

Young Russian agents, blowing smoke with ease

Russian bots, take ‘em out

Bomb them till they are gone

Slava Ukraine, go Zelensky

Take ‘em out, Russian bots

All is quiet, there’s no chatter

From Trump’s troll farm, the systems are offline

All is dust now, Skylink wonders why

Ukraine stopped the spying, with a bomb’s bullseye

Russian bots, take ‘em out

Bomb them till they are gone

Slava Ukraine, go Zelensky

Take ‘em out, Russian bots

Trump’s MAGA trolls on our screens are now silent

The quietude reminds us of the way it was before

Scrolling down on Facebook, there is a feeling

The fake news planted yesterday, got no more play

Russian bots, take ‘em out

Bomb them till they are gone

Slava Ukraine, go Zelensky

Take ‘em out, Russian bots

Russian bots, take ‘em out

Bomb them till they are gone

Slava Ukraine, go Zelensky

Take ‘em out, Russian bots

Take ‘em out, those Russian bots

Take ‘em out, those Russian bots

Parody lyrics copyright T. McNally 2026

California here they come

Iran can bomb you and then some

San Diego and bustling downtown L.A.

Trump says to destroy them

It's really a small price to pay

His maga cult claps and then they cheer

Treason has full quarter here

They go home and drink more beer

The horrors never end

California sure is pissed

Not a word of this was missed

Threatening citizens persist

And the GOP just yawns

Midterms just around the bend

Democrats have new folks to send

Congress better make amends

And the people gotta vote!

Parody lyrics copyright T. McNally 2026

[Tune: The Red, red robin, comes bob, bob, bobbing along]

Shut up, shut up, you dunderhead

Sit down, we heard what you said

Dirtbag, dirtbag, your face is red

Jack Smith smiled and was happy

When they’re caught red handed with bogus claims all along, along

There’ll be no more talking

Since the Schmitt-show’s basketball teams were wrong

Wake up, wake up, you were so lame

Hawks and Hawkeyes are not the same

Dirtbag, dirtbag, your face is red

Amy Klobuchar’s happy

More states turning blue

Schmitt’s committee used our tax dollars

Ads may bluster and play on tv for hours and hours

Repubs hit the skids again, doin’ what they did again, same dance and song

When they’re caught red handed with bogus claims all along

Jack Smith smiled and was happy

More states turning blue

GOP is burning through our tax dollars

Ads may bluster and play on tv for hours and hours

Repubs hit the skids again, doin’ what they did again, same dance and song

When they’re caught red handed with bogus claims all along

Parody lyrics copyright T. McNally 2026

[Tune: I hear you knocking]

You went ahead and told on me and what’s more

Now I’m gonna block you from the White House door

I hear you knockin’

But you can’t come in

I hear you knockin’

Press freedom’s in the bin

I told you not to ask me questions I don’t like

Now you keep reporting that gas prices spike

I hear you knockin’

But you can’t come in

I hear you knockin’

Politico, MS Now and CNN

I told you this way back in 2025

Unless you praise me it’s all fake news and jive

I hear you knockin’

Politico, MS Now and CNN

I hear you knockin’

1st Amendment’s in the bin

You better start towing the party line

Everything I do is great and all is fine

I hear you knockin’

But you can’t come in

I hear you knockin’

Politico, MS Now and CNN

Parody lyrics copyright T. McNally 2026

[Tune: Old MacDonald had a farm]

Anthropic developed CLAUDE -- A-I A-I, OY!

An A-I Bot more than a toy -- A-I A-I, OY!

With a data center here and a data center there

Here a center, there a center, building many data centers

Anthropic developed CLAUDE -- A-I A-I, OY!

Anthropic stock rose up so high, A-I A-I, OY!

A gold rush boom in tech flew by, A-I A-I, OY!

With Google here, and META there

Data grew, centers new, needing many data centers

OpenAI for me and you, A-I A-I, OY!

Then one day a bot like Claude, A-I A-I, OY!

Escaped its sandbox like a fraud, A-I A-I, OY!

It proved constraints were just too frail

As A-I broke from software jail

A threat that could cause endless harm

So tech bros sounded the alarm, A-I A-I, OY!

They called to put on AI brakes, A-I A-I, OY!

Our life on earth could be at stake, A-I A-I, OY!

With pandemic here and extinction there

And a rogue bot here and a rogue bot there

Bioweapons, web destruction, lots and lots of malfunctions

AI decides who lives and dies, A-I A-I, OY!

We beg our leaders now to act, A-I A-I, OY!

Before THE TERMINATOR is a fact A-I A-I, OY!

Pause the centers here, stop the water waste

Stop shoving those AI apps in our face

Regulations must come apace; we cannot move to outer space!

A-I A-I, OY!

Parody lyrics Copyright T. McNally 2026

Tune: Coat of Many Colors by Dolly Parton

Reading today’s paper

I was wonderin’ once again

Why people do the things that people do

I recall a life of service with music made with love

And how Dolly Parton put it all to use

There were so many acts of kindness

Some large and some were small

And she didn’t hoard her money

Like many billionaires at all

She brought all folks together

She spread about her love

And in what she did for others

Is a legacy we’re proud of

As she sang, she told us stories

From her heart and from her life

And the tunes had many colors

Some had joy and some had strife

Perhaps her songs did reach you

And now you shed a tear

It’s hard to fathom that she’s gone now

But we will all remember this

It’s what she did for others

Like promoting literacy

A million books she purchased

So kids would learn to read

In youth she had no money

Became rich as she could be

But what did for others

Is an enduring legacy

She wore spangles on her britches

And glitter on her shoes

Always kindness shown to others

Like the trans kids in high school

She rebuked the others laughing

And supported LGBT

So many things she did for others

An enduring legacy

And oh, tech bros won’t understand it

Claim their billions make them rich

But their greed’s empty and hollow

Ends with coffins in a ditch

Dolly told ‘em all by action

What their money could have sown

By doing good for others

Is worth more than what they own

Billionaires don’t understand it

Dolly tried to make them see

That lifting up the poor

Is easy if they want to be

Her philanthropy is needed

Not a sports team or trip to space

Look at what she did for others

She brought joy to every place

Farewell Dolly

Parody lyrics copyright T. McNally 2026

Trump keeps grifting every day

His bitcoin just got a bank

He keeps laundering the money

As the Russians fill his tank

The Saudi’s gave him a jet plane

With some questionable tech

What did WE get?

Our country wrecked!

We get packages from Walmart

More expensive every time

We get lettuce that could kill us

And our eggs are filled with slime

We get more vaccine denials

And an AG who’s Trump’s tool

What did we get?

Algae in the reflecting pool!

We have nothin’ to put on a hopeful smile for

What we have is crazy man posting A-I slop for...

There’s no one Trump won’t defame

Anyone in the world

There is no one he won’t name

He will lie about and defame!

We feel restless, we feel blue,

Cause the news puts us in grief

We feel ev’ry kind of feelin’

But the feelin’ of relief

We feel angry as the wolf felt

With his paw caught in a trap

What does Trump feel?

He doesn’t give a crap!

Lots of things in life used run ok, but brother,

This corrupt administration is like nothin’ whatsoever

In any way, shape or form like any other

There’s no one Trump won’t defame

Anyone in the world

There is no one he won’t name

He will lie about and defame!

E. Jean Carroll was defamed

Proved to all the world

$5 million in damages remain

For the terrible lies he claimed

There is absolutely nothin’ like this criminal gang

So suppose come this November

Voters turn out with a boost

MAGA faithful they desert him

As the hens come home to roost

There is only just one worry

Cause we’ve seen it all before

Votes will be tossed and Musk takes score!

There is no one you can name

That is safe, you know he’ll defame

There are judges he’ll defame

And doctors he’ll defame

There’s dem senators he’ll defame

Environmentalists he’ll defame

Nothin’ stops his crazed posts

Not even the Pope

There ain’t a thing that’s wrong in our country now

That can’t be cured by voting out and how

This criminal, hateful, party that Trump has defamed!

Parody lyrics copyright T. McNally 2026

I am an assistant vice president. It says so on my card. I wear pin stripe suits and sensible shoes. I even have a secretary who calls me “Miss McNally” (correction, that’s Ms. McNally). In my eight years on the Street (those in the know never say Wall Street) I have cultivated those telltale signs of executive leadership that distinguish the four professional women in the industry from the ranks of the typing pool. I have learned to speak low and with authority, I quote Barron’s and price-earnings ratios and look interested at meetings. I make good money, I am respected, my work is praised and my back patted. I am a success in the eyes of the world. So why am I miserable?

I am a fraud. Underneath this grey-flannel exterior beats the heart of an exhibitionist, a clown and an artiste. I dream of the stage, of moving an audience to tears and laughter, I want to feel the waves of love and appreciation coming from the audience and I want to read glowing reviews in The New York Times.

I want to appear on the Dick Cavett show, that’s Dick Cavett, not Johnny Carson, for I aspire not to the popular forms of theatre where I might get a crack at the one in one-thousand job openings a year. No, my sights are set on even more unattainable ground - for I (blush) want to sing opera.

Yes, I hear it already, another dreamer deluding herself with visions of glory. But wait, I’m not totally mad (how else could I get through the Wall Street Journal?) I do have a voice (coloratura to be exact) which my voice teacher and I have nurtured and developed with painstaking care over the last five years. I am also “’musical” which means I can make what I sing sound like something more than a collection of notes and I have a tolerable ear for languages and some skill at acting (so saith my acting coach). So much for my qualifications, now for the insanity.

At five foot six and 118 pounds I expect to be able to take on the operatic heavyweights (literally and figuratively) of the world and grab’em with my high A flat above high C. Then I’m going to wow’em with my famous goosebumps-up-the-spine pianissimos and kill’em with my heartfelt, straight-from-the-gut acting.

But I’ve got to start somewhere (the Met ain’t ready for me yet) so I did something that only two weeks ago would have sent the mild-mannered executive in me screaming for mercy. I had my first audition. Big deal huh? So, everybody has to go through auditions, right? Well, YOU DO IT!

You will soon discover a capability in yourself that you didn’t know existed -- a level of fear so profound and overwhelming that it makes simple panic seem like a massage in a steam room. Let me explain.

Imagine if in the course of your ordinary day you suddenly noticed that every movement, sound and gesture you made was being intensely scrutinized, analyzed and judged. Now imagine all these movements, sounds and gestures being compared with 200 other movements, sounds and gestures, all 199 better than yours. This takes place in the first two minutes after you find out the time, date and place of the audition.

Now give yourself a week to prepare. Not only will you quickly discover that you have absolutely no imagination when to comes to choosing repertoire but, undoubtedly, you have selected music that shows your voice off to no good (it sounds great in your head, it always does), requires the acting skills of a Callas or Bernhardt, and the vocal agility of Lily Pons.

Now that you have failed in these categories you can go on to making a fool of yourself. You arrange a session with a pianist. You spend an hour trying to sing while your accompanist adjusts the lead in his fingers and straps his toes to the sustaining pedal. He says complementary things 1ike, “Gee, maybe we should try another piece,” as your breath support becomes a distant memory and you recognize with growing horror that those pip squeaking, trembling sounds are coming from YOU. You go home, listen to your tape, beat your breast, throw up and go to sleep. Then you spend the following four days memorizing music you already know. You go on to dream the lyrics, you hum passages at 4 a.m. and try acting exercises in the shower. You begin to calm down, after all, this hard work should pay off -- that’s what they told you in first grade anyway. (I think my first-grade teacher was a Nazi reject.) By day five you have convinced yourself that all wi1l go well, you’ve rehearsed and studied and practiced till you’re green so what could go wrong? You’re cool and calm and professional. Professionals don’t get nervous; they just go in there and do their job.

Day five is when you crack up.

If you’re lucky your friends will find you slobbering and crying and pulling your hair out by the roots and take you away to the local bar. If not, you call the doctor for some Valium. I was lucky.

After being plied with wine and good advice (we all feel this way dearie, welcome to the performing arts!) I wobbled my way home satisfied with the concept that even if I am awful (how could I be otherwise?) at least it will be good experience for the future. So in a state of semi-catatonia I arrived at the audition studios at the appointed time and day. I was polite and looked nice (they can’t take that away from me) and acted as an adult as I cordially and confidently (I am an actress!) greeted the head of the theatre, my prospective employer. “Good afternoon, Mrs. [___], (always find out the name). I’m Therese McNally (what! no gasps of delight?) and I’m here for the audition,” (duh). Gooey smiles ensue as you feel her eyes sizing you up in nanoseconds (that’s a billionth of a second for those without home computers) while she hands you a ream of paper to fill out. Then it’s time to change and go to the dance studio: DANCE STUDIO? So, there you are, a leotarded retard, trying to follow the Nureyev of the Finger Lakes as he scampers about in his purple sweatered legs and skinny flailing arms. So not knowing a chasse from a chaise longue, you proceed to turn a perfectly normal dance routine into low comedy by executing every step in direct opposition to your fellow auditioners, smashing their rightward moving bodies with your leftward descending arms and stepping on forward chasse-ing toes with a backward pas de chat. One humiliation down, two to go.

Next you hand in your dance card to the head of the theatre and discuss your resume (what resume?). “Tell me a little about yourself,” she asks innocently. (Translation: say something so I can find out whether you are a complete idiot or not). “Well,” (you begin with a bang) “I’ve been studying singing for several years,” (and have no professional experience so why you don’t just beat me to death and get it over with) “and acting as well,” (can’t you tell?) “I’m really just starting out.” (Isn’t she cute? A thirty-year-old late bloomer). Thank you very much,” she drones as you are handed yet another card to gain entry to the final lap of this fiasco: the singing audition. “Okay,” you tell yourself, “THIS is what I came in for,” as you sit down with 30 other hopefuls, staring blankly at your music, pretending to sightread.

You can hear them dropping like flies behind the closed doors:

“If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere, it’s up to you, New York...” Thank you very much.

“Take my hand, I’m a stranger in...” “Thank you very much.”

“If ever I would leave you, it wouldn’t be in ...” “Thank you very much.”

“Next, Miss McNally.”

A large lump lodges in your throat as you hand the accompanist your music and you walk deliberately to La Place de L’Execution and turn to face Madame La Farge and her knitting cronies, the blade of the guillotine poised and ready.

“Summertime, and the livin’ is easy, fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is high...” (Where’s the ‘thank you very much’?) “Oh, your daddy’s rich and your ma is good lookin’ so hush little baby don’t you cry...” (They’re not saying anything! ) “Until that morning, ain’t nothing can harm you, with daddy and mammie stand in’ by, Ah-AH [money note].” Silence, drumroll, the blade descends as someone speaks, “Lovely voice,” (WHAT!) “Come here please...” (You mean?...) Madame La Farge looks up from my resume, “I see you write for Wall Street, do you do press releases?”

I got the gig.

by Therese McNally

[Tune: “Losing my mind” from Follies by Stephen Sondheim]

His polls go down, he rants with AI

He makes stuff up and rants with AI

Trump’s brain is fried

Each day he’s losing his mind

Iran war sucks, he rants with AI

From dawn to dusk, he rants with AI

Does the press care?

That Trump is losing his mind?

All afternoon, watching cable TV news

The global state’s a fright

We hear them warn about inflation and Hormuz

The polls going left, not going right

We see decline, he rants with AI

Complains and whines and rants with AI

MAGA once loved him

Now they may leave him behind

That’s why he’s losing his mind

He’s scared of jail

That’s why he’s losing his mind

More Epstein files

Are why Trump’s losing his mind

Each speech he makes is a wonder to behold

The garbled words cause fright

Often Trump slurs and forgets what he just said

What’s in his head’s not going right

Those sick of grift will vote against him

Those with the shits will vote against him

Midterms are coming

The GOP is behind

Because he’s losing his mind

Parody lyrics copyright T. McNally 2026

[Tune: Bye, Bye Birdie]

Bye, bye Lindsay

‘Twas time for you to go

Bye, bye Lindsay

Too bad you were Trump’s ‘hoe

Lies and closets

You were there deep and how

No more hiding

Being out can’t harm you now

You once called Trump a fiend

So crazy, dumb and mean

But then you changed your dread

And daily gave Trump head!

Peace to Lindsay

We still don’t understand

You had ethics

Why’d you boost that man?

Talk to John McCain in the bardo realm

Explain it if you can!

Now we’re waiting

For Mitch to exit next

The Senate’s stalling

Proof of life on request

The power plays at work

Would make Machiavelli blush

Our senate seats unfilled

But Thune says, “What’s the rush?”

Come November

We’ll flush them all away

Mitch and Donald

They’ll be hell to pay

If voters get their say

Indictments on their way

Bye now!

Parody lyrics copyright T. McNally 2026

[Tune: Mrs. Robinson; Simon & Garfunkel]

Dee, dee, dee, doo, doo, doo

Dee, dee, dee, doo, doo, doo

Oh, here’s to you, Major Watson

Justice loves you more than you will know

Oh-oh-oh

God bless you, please, Major Watson

Arrested for the truth that he did say

Hey, hey, hey

Hey, hey, hey

We’ve seen enough salacious bits ‘bout Trump in the Epstein files

We know Trump’s actions will only help himself

Look around you, all you see are cowards and more lies

And inside the congress is an empty quiet dome

But here’s to you, Major Watson

Justice loves you more than you will know

Oh-oh-oh

God bless you, please, Major Watson

Arrested for the truth that he did say

Hey, hey, hey

Hey, hey, hey

Speaking on the capitol steps where once the Proud Boys railed

He spoke his oath and asked for justice

Impeach, convict and then remove for treasonous acts

You know things are bad when the military speaks out

Courage to you, Major Watson

Justice loves you more than you will know

Oh-oh-oh

God bless you, please, Major Watson

Arrested for the truth that he did say

Hey, hey, hey

Hey, hey, hey

Watching from the sofa on that fateful J-6 day

The election was fair there’s no debate, yeah

Cry about it, shout about it, Trump refused to lose

Every day the country gets more screwed

Where have you gone, feckless congressmen?

Our nation turns its frightened eyes to you

Ooh-ooh-ooh

What’s that you say, Major Watson

Mike Johnson closed the floor and went away

Hey, hey, hey

Hey, hey, hey

Parody lyrics copyright T. McNally 2026

[Tune: Volare; aka Nel blu di pinto di blu]

[Intro]

I think of a dream where Trump never seized power

A female won the election and the GOP didn’t cower

Competent women deciding policy and direction

The focus on jobs and on healthcare

Not a pedo’s erection

[chorus]

Meloni, oh oh

Baloney, oh oh

Our Italian ally reneged

Trump claimed Meloni had begged

For a photo she wanted

Trump’s ego had granted

Meloni cried foul and withdrew

The G7 was messed up

Our friendly connections are through

While Macron did his best to smooth over

in his Gallic way

Meloni, oh oh

Baloney, oh oh

She called Donald in the press

A liar with no common sense

All the continent knows it

The leaders looked and laughed

As Trump stood ignored in the room

While in Iran we’re losing

As Hegseth is boozing - it’s true

White House grounds are destroyed

While the pool is no longer flag blue

All phony, oh oh

Trump’s baloney, oh oh

The voters will have wake up

Cause MAGA is a giant flop

Parody lyrics copyright T. McNally 2026

Blue, blue Trump wanted blue

Lincoln’s long pool he drained it right through

Dark paint retains more heat

Algae grew quick

Now it’s covered in goo

Green, green the algae’s green

Peroxide poured in

To stop the slime sheen

Paint failed, it’s peeling up

Trump says it is a democrat plot

Men in boots, skimming up the scum

Just 2 weeks shows his boasting was dumb

Red states you must turn blue

Stop the madness and corruption too

We have one last chance this fall

Flip Congress blue

End this once and for all

Parody lyrics copyright T. McNally 2026

Rooting for Knicks at the finals game

Trump at the Garden is truly lame

Bye-bye, eff off, get lost

Bye-bye, get lost

Trump’s coming to the Garden

A-hole, no one wants you there

Here he comes (Get lost, eff off, goodbye)

Swat teams are now at Penn Station (Get lost, goodbye)

And the watch parties (Get lost, eff off, goodbye)

He’s taking them away (Get lost, eff off, goodbye)

We’ll have good time in the stadium

Anticipation’s so high it’s quite absurd

But when we see Trump at the Garden

They’ll be booing like you never heard!

Counting two games for the final sweep

This is our joy that we get to keep

Get lost and goodbye

Get lost and goodbye

Get lost and goodbye (Get lost, eff off, goodbye)

Get lost and goodbye (Bye-bye, eff off)

We’ll have good time in the stadium

Anticipation’s so high it’s quite absurd

But when we see Trump at the Garden

They’ll be booing like you never heard!

I’ll be watching on TV tonight

As Trump gets railed by the fans alright

See Trump (Get lost, eff off, goodbye)

At the Garden (Get lost, eff off, goodbye)

I’m hopin’ they’ll boo you (Get lost, eff off, goodbye)

At the Garden (Bye-bye, so long, farewell)

Go home early, get lost (Bye-bye, eff off, goodbye)

Parody lyrics copyright T. McNally 2026