(To the tune of “Goodnight Sweetheart,” by Ray Noble, Jimmy Campbell & Reg Connelly (1931))

Goodbye Comey.
On my nerves you’re grating.
Goodbye Comey.
Ends investigating.

Come tomorrow.
My new FBI.
Will bandage the sty.
Confirm my alibi.

Goodbye Comey.
Democrats are whining.
Goodbye Comey.
Who’d suspect bad timing?

Hate stiff Prussians.
Why can’t I love those Russians?
Goodbye Comey.

Lyric © 2017 by Robert S. Steinberg
All rights reserved


(To the tune of “Little Girl Blue,” by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart)


When his campaign began
I thought it was all in fun.
Another game to stoke his name
To my chagrin he’s won
And nothing feels quite the same
Dems sit and wonder who’s to blame.
Worry reigns over DC
Worry raindrops fall on me


I sit here and feel the raindrops
Storm clouds have sent
Feeling all spent.
Why am I feeling like the raindrops?
Trump will be president.

I sit here and mourn the future
Under this gent
Who’ll not repent
Why do I worry o’er the future?
Trump will be president.


What can we do?
What can this man do to us?
Have you read Sinclair Lewis?
Threats He wrote of should clue us.
Not to trust, this con man
We’ll soon call
President Trump.

Reprise Bridge

Why feel so glum?
Although this is a bummer
He’s winter’s cold harsh Drummer
In four-year’s-time may come a
Summer, wise man
To dethrone
President Trump.

Lyric © by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved


(To original melody)

Welcome to Absurdum
A place they used to call America.
And if you’re coming to the USA
Best pack a bullet-proof vest.
All the crazies live here.
Loaded guns everywhere.
So you’d better steer clear.
God bless America.

Welcome to Absurdum
Now look who’s vying to be president.
An egomaniac with a coif.
A lady who wants to wear the pants.
Soon the crazies will vote.
“Open-carry” promote.
Privacy’s in the moat.
Liberty’s a game of chance.

Welcome to Absurdum
A place they used to call America.
Honest Abe’s restless grave.
Sees us fooled all the time.
Oligarchs plot and rule.
Lobbyists selling mule.
Try to live on a dime.
God bless America.

© 2016 By Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved


The Republican establishment has suddenly awakened to the likelihood of Donald Trump becoming its nominee for president. That realization has unleashed a desperate campaign to stop his ascent to the party’s nomination.

(To the tune of “You’re the Top,” by Cole Porter)

Not the Trump.
Anyone but Donald.
Not the Trump.
How we yearn for Ronald.
No conservative, he’d give us a black eye.
He’s the King of Con.  He’s the Twitter-Don.
He’s a dangerous guy.

Not the Trump.
Got a tiny weenie.
Not the Trump.
Thinks he’s Mussolini.
Cruz gives us the blues, and Rubio’s a punk.
So, the GOP roars in misery,
“To the bars – Get drunk.”

Not the Trump.
Who will stop the Trumpster?
Not the Trump.
Drop him in the dumpster.
This is suicide, a coattail ride we’d skip.
Desperation’s come when Mitt Romney’s
even sounding hip.

POTUS Trump.
Breathes an air of panic.
Not the Trump.
He’d be our Titanic.
He will take us down, this circus clown, this chump.
Groucho Marks’ more presidential.
Not the Trump.

Lyric © 2016 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved.

Note: This is a parody song lyric based on comments of others and/or innuendo in comments of others. Thus, the views expressed are not necessarily those of the author.  The author does not intend this parody lyric to be taken seriously or mistaken for truth.  The contents of this blog are intended as humor and satire of a political process.  This lyric is not intended as a personal attack on anyone and is not published for the purpose of disparaging anyone’s reputation.


The Republican Party, now the majority in Congress, has pushed the same agenda as when it was in the minority. But, is hate an agenda?

(To the tune of “Oklahoma” by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II, from the Broadway Show of the same name).

Hate Obama
is the mantra of the GOP.
“He’s a communist.”
“He’s on our list.”
For Republicans, an enemy.

Hate Obama
in the congress when he gives a speech.
‘Stead of loud applause
you’ll hear guffaws
when he says solutions are in reach.

You knew if we woo the fat cats
naturally we would loath Democrats.

And so we state: (“There’ll be)
“No intelligent debate.”
“Compromise is off the plate.”
We’re out to scuttle Obama,
for Obama we – H-A-T-E, H-A-T-E.
Obama we hate.


Lyric © 2015 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved.


Congress is back in session.  What? No shouts of Hooray?  The reaction one hears is more like:

 Here we go again
The circus is in town
Congress is in session
Pick your fav’rite clown.

(To tune of “Catch Us if You Can,” by Dave Clark and Lenny Davidson of the Dave Clark Five.”

The problem is that our duly elected guys and gals by and large don’t measure  up to the task at hand. Yes, the GOP is the new ringmaster; but, not one act has changed since I first posted this lyric in 2012.  I republish it now with minor modifications.

(To tune of “It’s Alright with Me,” by Cole Porter)

They’re the wrong gang
For a grim task
All those politicians
Wear a thin mask
And so I ask
Why the hypocrisy?
That’s not alright with me.

How they court us
And adore us
Then when we elect them
They ignore us
They’re not for us
We can’t move D.C..
That’s not alright with me

This is one more congress I’d like to forget
What strange disenchantment I feel
With Super Pac money, what they want they’ll get
And we’re all left with bitter lemons to peel

Maybe I’m right
Maybe you’re right
Maybe we’re both wrong
And yet we all fight
But we just might,
Solve the problems we see
If we’d find some harmony
And that’s alright
That would be alright with me.

Lyric © 2015, 2012 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved


(To tune of “Have Yourself a Very Merry Christmas” by Hugh Martin and Ralph Blane, as performed by Judy Garland in film, “Meet Me in Saint Louis.”)

Congress wishes you a Merry Christmas
With a last Hurrah!
Sounds familiar: Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah!

Congress wishes you a Merry Christmas
What a spending bill.
Stuffed with so much pork it’s smelling like road-kill.

Tis the season of merriment
To the Senate send some elves
And to the house where smug members rent
Seats and represent themselves.

Next year we will have another congress.
An angry one, and-how!
We may come to wish for this pathetic sow
And Congress wishes you a Merry Christmas now.

Congress wishes you a Merry Christmas.
Isn’t Chutzpah bold?
They’ve upped campaign funding limits by ten-fold.

Why three-cheers for the candidates?
In all fifty states? What for?
Millionaires have selected them.
And elected them. What’s more –

Next year we will have another congress.
A better one? No – how!
We may come to wish for this pathetic sow
Your congress wishes you a Merry Christmas now.

Lyric © 2014 by Robert S. Steinberg
All rights reserved


What most concerned incoming freshman House representatives was getting a decent office location, preferably with large rooms and an impressive view.  Thus, lucky charms flashed at the Rayburn House Office Building where the lottery for the order of office selections was held the other day.

(To the tune of, “I’ve Got a Lot of Living to Do,” by Charles Strouse & Lee Adams, from the Broadway musical stage show, “Bye Bye Birdie (1960))

Don’t ask me about immigration.
Most importantly, what I have to do.
On this day, to hell with the nation.
I’ve got to get an office with a view.

If they jam me into a closet.
Lobbyists won’t think, I’m somebody who
keeps his word after their deposit.
I’ve get to get an office with a view.

With a window and view
who won’t assume
I’m a big wheel?
A crucial rep for making a deal.

I must plan for my reelection.
Some prestige, could help me there too.
So I’ll need an envied selection.
What’s climate change? I haven’t yet a clue.
But I know I’ll need an office with a view.
Yes, I’ve got to get an office with a view.

Lyric © 2014 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved.


Record sums of money were spent on the just concluded mid-term elections. In Florida Governor Rick Scott was trailing Charlie Christ until he undertook a last-minute  spending spree to steal a victory.  In total Florida Republicans raised $209 million and half of that was used to reelect Scott.  The results illustrate how spending more than your opponent gets you a seat in the House, or Senate or Governor’s mansion. If money dictates the result, then are not our votes superfluous?  Why not do away with voting altogether.  Instead, allow political parties to hold competing telethons.  Whichever party raised the most cash, would then appoint  the President.  Seats in the House and Senate would be divided proportionately, based on the total funds raised by each party.  Because of Citizens United the wealthy and corporate interests  would continue to influence the result, as they did in this election. But, at least we’d no longer be infuriated by the twisted-map Gerrymandering that is today employed to retain congressional seats. And we wouldn’t have to stand in line.  Just click online to indicate preferences by making your political donation.

(To the tune of, “You Say you Want a Revolution,” by Paul McCartney and John Lennon).

Another telethon election.
Who won?
You can just tally up the cash.
Before you’ve made your proud selection.
They’ll know.
The one who’s built a bigger stash
For running those ads to denigrate their foes.
They’re stealing the country, while the people doze
Here in American, these days,
Here in America.

The highest court in our fine nation
Oh well,
Said corporations have a say.
They’ve let them make the fat donations.
And pray tell.
The dollar’s carrying the day.
And nobody says what they believe no more.
They’re asking for money knocking at my door.
Here in American, these days.
Here in America.

Experience the thrill of voting.
They say.
As they manipulate your mind.
Brainwashing you with their promoting.
All day.
The truth you’re never gonna find.
But with all of the negativity we’re sold
Inside of your head the message soon takes hold.
Here in America, these days
Here in America

America was made by people
Who compromised.
To help to build a better land.
Our congressmen see through a peephole.
There’s such
A narrow-mindedness at hand.
Just think of the influence a million buys.
You vote for crook who tells the fewest lies.
Here in America, these days.
Here in America/

Democracy is so in trouble.
Who cares?
You’re busy driving the new car.
But soon they’re gonna burst your bubble.
Blank stares.
Does anyone notice where we are?
If this is Democracy, then I’m a saint.
Pretending to be what we once were, and ain’t.
Here in America, these days.
We’ve lost America.
Here in America these days
Where is America?

Lyric © 2014 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved


(To the tune of, “Goodnight Sweetheart,” by Ray Nobel & Jimmy Campbell (1931))

Goodbye Congress,
ends another session.
Goodbye Congress,
Midterms have you guessin’.

You’ve done nothing,
the while you were here.
So, go off somewhere.
Somewhere and please stay there.

sits while you purport to,
serve the nation.
If we could deport you,
There’d be,

No more voting.
No more endless self-promoting.
Goodbye Congress.

© 2014 by Robert S. Steinberg,
Esquire All rights reserved.