Listen my children, and you shall hear
Of the midday trysts of Bill and dear.
'Twas late in November of '95
Hardly a man is now alive

Who talks of anything else over beer.
An intern there was, full of vixenish verve
Who, seeing the President, summoned her nerve
And flashed him a sign, through the noise and the throng.
She was wearing a smile. She was wearing a thong.

"One if by hand, two if by knee
And there by your side in a wink shall I be
Ready to serve my commander-in-chief,
And just like your underwear choice, I'll be brief!"

Yikes, my dear children, here's what happened next
(Just press starr.com, please, to get the full text):
The chief let his guard down. His zipper went with it
And then, I'm afraid, it gets much more explicit.

They groped in the office like some cheap cliché
They hugged in a crowd while she wore her beret.
They did it while he spoke with Reps on the phone
(Who wondered why welfare reform made him groan).

Expressing the lust that he felt for this lass
He gave her (but did not inhale) "Leaves of Grass."
And could it be thus David fell for his Sheba?
She gave him (but did not inhale) a Cohiba.

After a while, though, the Prez got some sense
He and his aides bid the hussy go hence.
They hoped that this signaled the end of this mess
But they hadn't counted on Starr. Or that dress.

Or those tapes! How Starr cherished the Tripp dirt on Bubba.
He'd hook his white whale and reduce him to blubba!
The Prez made it easy by swearing that he
Had never felt more than her pain, basically.

Eight months later came boxes a-brimming
With details that most of us squirmed some while skimming
And fin'ly the President faced us, contrite:
"I've sinned, I was wrong, yadda, yadda -- all right?"

The pols said, "Let's hang him!" The polls said let's not.
His wife stood beside him, which took quite a lot
And that's where we leave him, a schnook among schnooks
He's no Paul Revere, but he's one for the books.

[1]Back