He ungirded his loins, he shucked his jive.
He went to bed woke and awakened alive.
Caught in a quandary, he couldn't blame Trump.
Scratching his head, he took a quick dump.
Relieved of his load, he was tickling his balls.
Laughing uproariously, bouncing off walls.
Feeling enlightened, he was walking on air.
He felt so refreshed without the despair.
He went to the kitchen, he fried up some eggs.
He found his cold coffee, choked down the dregs.
He caught himself dancing, whistling a tune.
He felt wide awake, four hours till noon.
He put on an old suit, he kicked up his heels.
His head wasn't full of stupid new deals.
He flew out the door, the air felt so crisp.
He greeted a passerby, he'd lost his gay lisp.
Folks looked at him different, some even smiled.
He was feeling exuberant, vibrant and wild.
His agenda had changed, he found a new crew.
His new friends had hair not purple or blue.
He found his way to the capitol, ready for work.
He was here for the people not here to shirk.
He found a new seat after crossing the aisle.
He waved goodbye to the left, he wore a big smile.
He was relieved of his burden, he felt so awake.
He'd had a  a conversion, a new thirst to slake.
He was roundly applauded, Hip hip hooray.
He'd found his true purpose, and life was okay.
He had a reason for living, a new righteous cause.
He thanked God up above and put Satan on pause.
D.L. Crockett -- 12/6/23