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April 3, 2007

Wild Irish Rose (a poem)

By Russ Vaughn

What is that stench wafts 'neath the nose?

Is it ABC's Wild Irish Rose?


Must we endure this big broad's ranting,

That has the liberal loon's all chanting?


Dubya brought those towers down,

Claims this crazy corpulent clown.


Is our rotund Rose blatantly batty,

Or just hates the world 'cause she's a fatty?


Appears that ABC has found

Ratings come cheaper by the pound;


Need someone hot, to blow and blab?

Hire a has-been encased in flab.


If its controversy that you like,

Broadcast a belligerent blowhard shrike,


Who hates the world because she's fat,

And leso-by-default due to that.


Rose once played with Irish boys,

But boys don't stay with tubby toys,


So Rosie pinned her heart to girls,

And men became just dogs and churls;


Especially men who act like men,

So Rosie's out to do them in.


It's sad to see such intelligence

Warped by hate, no common sense.


I take no pleasure in rhyming odium,

But I lack Rosie's national podium,


No broadcast forum for rants and raves,

No applauding audiences, witless slaves;


Why denounce her deviance, excess weight?

Because they're the roots of this Rose's hate


Of a system where she's never fit,

And she attacks our nation because of it.


A Rose by any name smells sweet?

Not this bulbous blossom of fatuous heat.


Russ Vaughn

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