(Sung to the tune of Danny Boy)
Oh, Liberals, your eyes, your eyes are a squirting
From coast to coast, and down the whole Left side.
The election’s lost, and all the tears are a falling,
It’s Hillary, it’s Hillary who must go,
and with Trump you must abide.
Don’t come ye back when summer’s in the meadow,
Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow,
Trump’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow,—
Oh Libby bleaters, Oh Libby bleaters,
We loathe you scumbags so!
But if you come, when Dems chances are dying,
And they are dead, as dead as they can be,
Ye’ll come and find the place where other Libs are crying,
And kneel and squirt some tears for me.
And I shall hear, though soft you cry near me,
And Trump’s victory will warmer, sweeter be,
For you Lib’s run against our grain
and you were run, run over by the Trump train.