The only place where Dubya will
Be greeted by friendly faces
Is when he’s making speeches
At our military bases.
At every press conference he holds
He makes sure there’s never a chance
He’ll ever be asked a question
That he hasn’t heard in advance.
When Harriet Miers withdrew
The president couldn’t wait
To avoid White House reporters
And fly down to The Sunshine State.
Now that his administration
Creaks like an old jalopy
Maybe it’s time to call Dubya
A word once feared by his Poppy.
His timid responses have put
Into his manly image a crimp
We’re now long overdue to say
That W stands for “wimp.”
