NOTHING HERE’S SMELLING LIKE ROSES

NOTHING HERE’S SMELLING LIKE ROSES
(To the tune of, Everything’s Coming up Roses,” by Julie Styne and Stephen Sondheim, from 1959 Broadway Show “Gypsy”)

Dash for cash, bash and trash.
Dough from Lobbyists piles up a stash.
Shift the blame, play the game.
People, nothing here’s smelling like roses

Take your turn, burn the Bern.
Give one tilting at windmills a turn.
Clinton’s scowls, sag her jowls.
People nothing here’s smelling like roses.

Whose Foundation’s
cozy with Saudis and such?
Wall Street dollars
for speeches, and nobody hollers?

Bernie’s right, too much might
for the big wigs and deals in the night.
Anecdote? Cast your vote.
People, nothing here’s smelling like roses.

Turn to Trump? He’s a chump.
But this GOP gaggle he’ll thump.
Rubio? What a show.
Want to Cruz?  Hit the booze.
A ballot with them on it makes me cuss.
And people, nothing here’s smelling like roses to any of us.

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

HILARY

Tax Foolery has lampooned Donald Trump.  Now it’s Hilary Clinton’s turn.

HILARY
(To tune of “Heavenly” by Burt Bacharach and Syd Shaw as recorded by Johnny Mathis on 1959 album of the same name)

Oh Hilary!  Our Hilary!
Keeps Bill inside a pillory.
Or else he’d fool around.
Often she’s found
her man about town.

Now Hilary! Our Hilary!
Will need her own distillery.
To drink to all those emails leaking out.

Yes, we know her –
a ma’am in pants.
Those liberal ideals she cants.
Whilst taking cash, from foreign friends.
And who knows where, the scandal ends.

That’s Hilary! Our Hilary!
Oh, the pretense is chilling me.
A queen who would be king,
Our Hilary!

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