re: #234 Fourth Football of the Apocalypse

Not that I think a Trump-Cruz-Rubio field is a good thing.

The Carol Of The Three:

We three schlocks of America are
Begging for votes we traverse afar.
Field and fountain, moor and mountain,
Following yonder vote.

O votes of wonder, votes of might,
Votes with royal beauty bright,
Wingnut leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to thy perfect Light.

Born a front-runner on Iowa’s plain,
Gold we schill to fleece them again,
Running forever, ceasing never
Over all to campaign.

O votes of wonder, votes of might,
Votes with royal beauty bright,
Wingnut leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to thy perfect Light.

Demagoguery to offer have I.
Hypocrisy owns a Deity nigh.
Prayer and praising all men raising,
Worship votes, Donors on high.

O votes of wonder, votes of might,
Votes with royal beauty bright,
Wingnut leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to thy perfect Light.

The Office is mine: it’s bitter perfume
Breaths a life of gathering gloom.
Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding dying,
Sealed in a ballot box room.

O votes of wonder, votes of might,
Votes with royal beauty bright,
Wingnut leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to thy perfect Light.

Glorious now behold Me arise,
King and God and Kickbacks.
Alleluia, alleluia!
Sounds through K-street and Wall-Street.

O votes of wonder, votes of might,
Votes with royal beauty bright,
Wingnut leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to thy perfect Light.