The Golden Potty Mouth

                  A Limerepic

There once was a boy from Manhattan
With a gold-plated potty he shat in.
He’d poop out a tweet
And he’d tweet and re-tweet
Till America flushed and was gladdened.

Yes, I said of this boy from Manhattan
(With the gold-plated potty he shat in):
He pooped out a word,
The miserable turd,
And flushed himself out of Manhattan. 

And up wafted in Mar-Florid-A-Lago
This poop-stained, moronic farrago
This blustering victim
(His enemies kicked him)
Reeking of cheese and bravado. 

But Florida just didn't want him
They hired an airplane to taunt him
They tried to evict him
(His enemies kicked him)
So he hopped in his cart and went golfin'.

"Maybe I should to go Scotland" he thought
"In Scotland I could go golfin' a lot!
They'll love my commode
I will poop till I'm old."
But in Scotland they said "you can rot."

By then the sun had arisen.
For some reason the boy thought of prison.
"Oh, where can I go
With my golden commode
Somewhere where democracy isn't?"

Then he thought of his lover named Kim.
But Kim had had all of him
He ever would want
In a posh restaurant
Over Big Macs and Kimchi and gin. 

"Of course" he said, farting, "there's Putin.
Putin has always for me been a-rooting.
My lips I'll repair
To that warm derriere.
My potty and I 
Will find a home there.
And they said I was wrong to love Putin!"

There came from Manhattan a chump.

And the name of the chump was Trump.
He was so full shit
that to get rid of it
On America Trump took a dump.