Obama in Ditty

With gratitude to the wondrous—and inimitable—W. H. Auden:

Stop all the cock-ups, send home the cicerone,

Prevent the lapdog tweeting on his new iPhone,

Silence Arianna, and with muffled Christiane,

Bring out the coffers, let the donors come.

Let the neocon denouncers debark my Clairoled head—

Scribbling in Politico my policies are dead!

Put duct tape on the loose lips of my sorry bureaucrats,

Let the civil-discourse pietists pervade my apparat.

I am your North, your South, your East and West,

Your waking dreams, your hopes addressed,

Your God, your deliverer from dangerous throng;

I thought the Jews might leave me: I was wrong.

The stars are not needed now: Richard Lugar is my gun;

Pack up the moon: Lindsey Graham’s the bon ton.

Pour away the ocean—it’s risen where I’ve stood,

For everything I am and ever was is good.