by Col Quisp » Thu Oct 27, 2005 9:12 pm
(parody of the Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, written by a CANADIAN! - yes I have nothing better to do on Fitzmas Eve)<br><br>The legend lives on from the chippies in town<br>Of the big Jake* they call Gotcha Gumee<br>Fitzgerald, it’s said, never loses his head<br>When the skies of November turn gloomy.<br><br>With a load of indictments – 26,000 or more<br>That Patrick Fitzgerald weighed slowly<br>That good counselor was a bone to be chewed<br>When the gales of November came early<br><br>Patrick was the pride of the American side<br>Coming back from some mill in Chicago<br>As the big lawyers go he was bigger than most<br>With his crew and the Captain well seasoned.<br><br>Concluding some terms with some crooked old bums<br>He left fully sick of their squealing<br>And later that night when justice rang out,<br>Could it be the North Wind they'd been feeling.<br><br>The news on the wires made a tattletale sound<br>As the charges he was finally revealing<br>And every man knew, as Junior did, too,<br>T'was the witch of November come stealing.<br><br>The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait<br>When the news of indictments came slashing<br>When afternoon came it was freezing rain<br>In the face of a hurricane West Wing<br><br>When supper time came the old crook came on deck<br>Saying fellows it's too rough to feed ya<br>At 7PM the government caved in<br>He said fellas it's been good to know ya.<br><br>Fitzgerald wired in he had more coming in<br>And the Preznit and crew was in peril<br>And later that night when he scooted out of sight<br>Came the wrecking ball Patrick Fitzgerald.<br><br>Does anyone know where old Turdblossom goes<br>When the law turns the minutes to hours<br>The papers all say he’ll have Hell to pay<br>Unless he decides to roll over.<br><br>They might have split up or they might all go down<br>They may have broke deep and turned over<br>And all that remains is the faces and the names<br>Of the journalists, spies and their masters.<br><br>Lake Michigan rolls, and Wurmser sings<br>Of the lies from the executive mansion<br>Fitzgerald steams like a young man's dreams,<br>The pundits and aides are for sportsmen.<br><br>And farther below, old Mexico<br>Takes in what the US can send her<br>And indictments go as prosecutors all know<br>With the gales of November remembered.<br><br>In a musty old hall in DC they prayed<br>In the White House Cathedral<br>The church bell chimed, 'til it rang 29 times<br>For each charge from Patrick Fitzgerald.<br><br>The legend lives on from the Chippies in town<br>Of the big Jake they call Gotcha Gumee<br>Fitzgerald they say, never turns off the heat<br>When the gales of November come early.<br><br>*Jake is a Discordian term for "mindfuck."<br><br>OK, I know it's silly. <p></p><i></i>
