‘Twas some weeks since election and all through the land,

Al Gore was demanding more recounts by hand.

The ballots were all fondled, in the countrooms with care,

In hopes that more Gore chads, would fall from thin air.

The lawyers were raging, like runaway trains,

While visions of dollar signs, danced in their brains.

With a beer in my hand as a final nightcap,

I’d had all I could take of this God-Damned Gore crap.

When then on the news there arose such a clatter,

I turned up the TV to see what was the matter.

A plea from our V.P.,  came in a flash:

Al Gore would keep “fighting” - but needed more cash!

More partisan pundits pledged the vote was still out,

“It’s over, go home!” I wanted to shout.

When what to my beer-soaked-glazed-eyes should appear,

But the eight-hundredth lawyer we’ve seen now this year.

A whiney-@$$ lawyer, liberal right to the core,

And I knew in a moment, he supported Al Gore.

Like roaches in darkness, his crew, in they came,

Then Al whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

“Now Boies-Zack! Now Daley! We’ve got to take action!

On, Gephardt! Get Warren! Don't forget Jesse Jackson!"

"Steal me some more votes, no matter the cost!

If you would've swiped more, I wouldn't have lost!”

Bush has won Florida, but the Donkeys cry foul,

They won’t take a winner, unless he’s named “Al.”

The Dems lie and rant, with a hateful demeanor, 

Complaining the ballot confused poor old seniors.

And then, in a twinkling, they filed more lawsuits,

As the nation shuddered and thought, this is moot!

As I let out a sigh and was turning around,

There was Al Gore, our flag for a background!

The polls were all showing, Gore’s support quickly falling,

So he appeared on TV to answer the calling.

A bundle of chads he had flung on his back,

Though he looked like a peddler, he went on attack.

His chads-- they weren't hanging, they were pregnant or dimpled,

“Count them!” he yelled, "They're not just ballot pimples."

Gore’s droll little mouth, then drew up in a sneer,

And the thought "President Gore," made me shudder with fear.

Al’s quite a sore loser, not a jolly old elf,

Obviously this guy is in love with himself.

The vile wink of his eye and that twist of his head,

Soon let me know his campaign’s never dead.

As he continues to send, scores of lawyers to work,

We’re starting to get really sick of this jerk.

His "Count all the votes" bull is phony and lame, 

Every one of these recounts have come up the same.

Will he come to his senses? Will Al Gore get the clue?

"Your campaign, V.P. status, and CAREER are ALL THROUGH!"

WHEN will we hear, as he finally pays heed:

“Merry Christmas to all, and to all... I CONCEDE!”

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