A reality based independent journal of observation & analysis, serving the Flathead Valley & Montana since 2006. © James Conner.

12 December 2017 — 2225 mdt

Hey, there, Roy Moore, oh don’t you fondle me

Roy ran in Alabama,
With a leer down to his knee,
Girls too young to marry,
Made him sweat and say “Hee Hee.”

Hey, Judge Roy Moore,
Don’t you fondle me,
Put your hand back in your pocket,
I don’t want it on my knee.

He rode a horse named Sassy,
Rode the Commandments Ten,
Fired twice as ‘Bam’s chief justice,
Claimed he was immune to sin.

Hey, Judge Roy Moore,
Don’t you fondle me,
Put your hand back in your pocket,
I don’t want it on my knee.

Roy ran for U.S. Senate,
Beat Luther Strange so tall,
But he couldn’t beat his history,
Of chasing jailbait in the mall.

Hey, Judge Roy Moore,
Don’t you fondle me,
Put your hand back in your pocket,
I don’t want it on my knee.

But Judge Roy lost to Doug Jones,
Roy won’t fill that senate seat,
Roy received poetic justice,
When the voters hit “delete.”

Goodby Roy Moore,
We bid you now farewell,
Get your behind back on Sassy,
Go ride your horse to hell.