Last night I wore my purple dress
the doorbell rang, you'd never guess
who walked in with a bunch of flowers
and all his charismatic powers.
Let me describe him, here's a clue:
His hair is silver, almost blue.
They say he has a crooked schlong
an eager one, don't get me wrong.
I'm not the target any more
his wife, they say, is still quite sore.
Well, this is crazy, here we are
and he unwraps this black cigar.
Moves closer, smiles his smile and winks,
I wonder if he really thinks...
but I must tell someone, confess
because, well, um, you'd never guess,
he smelled like a distillery
my thoughts were all with Hillary.
His cell phone rang, he grew a frown
and whispered 'Darling, dropp this gown',
Oh, no, I shall do no such thing
with any man who wears a ring,
But then he talked of good old times
how everyone commits those crimes,
and that he loved me as his honey
and did I need some extra money.
'I have a slushfund with no less,
a million dollars from the mess
when we were finished with our tour
I did alright there, that's for sure.'
And in the blink of his blue eyes
before my brain could realise
he moved around like a Houdini
undressed and put on a bikini.
I tell you, it was quite a scene
the man was wearing greenback green.
The garment had been stitched together
a thousand notes and one lone feather.
But what amazed me, can you guess
a body part, shaped like an S
was pointing now in my direction
no way it could escape detection.
As you would know, I was quite nervous
since he had brought the Secret Service.
They briefed me now, called me Monique
all classified. I felt so weak,
then they went out but would you guess
he grabbed me quick, ripped off my dress!
That did it, what a clumsy jerk,
and now his Heini went beserk,
I prayed so God would intervene
when rescue came onto the scene.
While I was fighting off the beast
there was a knock, it was the priest.
Had come to pray with him and bless
his tool, made up of stem cells, yes.
I then decided that this mess
was weird enough, you'll never guess
what happened then, blink of an eye,
that's just before I went bye-bye.
The priest had taken off his habit
and donned two ears, those of a rabbit,
the two of them sat close together
and now perused that ostrich feather.
I pinched my buttocks just in case
I had been dreaming of this place
and found that this was real life,
I hurried home to my sweet wife.
She uses a much better brand
and buys them in the Fatherland.
'Cigars', she says, 'of quality
come from a country that is free.'
And Cuban sticks are way too humble
you touch them and they start to crumble.
A White House intern won't play chess
but, then again....you'd never guess.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem