Pockets

Oh, if my pockets would be liars
They’d say I hold much gold,
But, my pockets are true talkers
And therefore say—nothing.

Trump’s pockets would say, “Rich,
You’re richer than a king!
But of principles you’ve naught,
And so we say—nothing!

Dunce-ball to the inside pocket,
Inside this Trump—what’s there?
Much fuel without a rocket,
A fool that goes no where.

Oh, what is in your pocket?
It better not be trump;
Or else, like he, so “rich” you’ll be,
You’ll fall into the dump.

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