“No nigger ought to have the right
To make a court appointment,”
So Mitch McConnell from his height
Avowed, “but only someone white,
For melanin’s an ugly blight
Not curable by ointment.”
No other reason was adduced
Throughout the senate chamber,
As right procedure was traduced,
Such fanciful excuses spruced
To have an outcome so produced
That couldn’t have been lamer.
Obama’s nominee was shunned,
McConnell’s clique united
To leave the effort moribund,
Albeit Justice shocked and stunned
Herself the target that was gunned,
And faith in law left blighted.
When the republic’s fall is traced,
Ole Mitch will have a footnote
As one who’d rather lay to waste
The framer’s dreams, their work defaced
To further greed’s insatiable taste,
Death no irresolute note.
Years hence, when all is soot and ash,
May Justice, like a phoenix,
Revive to soar—but this white trash
Has minced it for the succotash,
Nor what they’ve done does them abash:
Mitch has no use for kleenex.
Oh, Mitchell sure destroyed the thing—
Could his conscience be duller?
Alas, insouciance does not bring
Indemnity, and time will fling
To the abyss, to feel death’s sting,
Such persons of no color.
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