The swamp critters are fishing, they're trolling for Trump.
There's chum in the multiverse, we need a sump pump.
To pump out the swamp scum, to get rid of the blight.
Flush out creepy-crawlies, make everything right.
Scum masquerading as demonrats, infesting D.C.
They Leave slimy trails, that are so plain to see.
They roll in with the fog, they hide under rocks.
Their speech incomprehensible, gibbering squawks.
They control the Senate, they stink up the house.
They can't ever be happy, they continually grouse.
They're out  to change America, using any means.
We're right to be terrified of swamp critter dreams.
How did we get here, who elected these scum.
We need to send them back to where they're from.
They're the spume, the waste, the dregs of societies.
The slag, the scruff, the superficial-impurities.
Amorphous, shape-shifting, subhuman rabble.
Who scattered to the swamp, after the tower of Babel.
They're out of the swamp building a tower of power.
A nightmare monstrosity, where only evil will flower.
It's time they are scattered, to whence they have come.
The only way to get rid of offensive swamp scum.
D.L. Crockett -- 8/28/22