THE ORDEAL OF JOHN EDWARDS

There are strange things done in the midday sun
By the men who toil for gold;
The campaign trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Iowa nights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that time on the stage of cold Dubuque
I praised that Johnnie E.

Now Johnnie E was from deep in the South,
Where the cotton looms once was.
He swam in the river, in the town of Robbins
Playin' with sticks and balls of fuzz
While his daddy toiled with pegs and bobbins,
And ne'er gave a thought to gold.
But later when Johnnie had done some growin'
He found real gumption, I'm told.

Working hard and goin' to school
To be crowned a lawyer of torts.
Defending companies against the buyers,
Some were liars and real bad sports.
Then Johnnie saw a light of gold.
Attack the biggies with pockets so deep,
Suing for folks hurt by things sold.
For a lot o' loot with more to keep.

Suing here, suing there, always suing bold,
Johnnie won big for the injured poor.
Keeping a lot for himself, I am told.
Then Johnnie E felt the lure
Of politics and power, won did he
a senate seat from North Carolina.
What could top it for Johnnie E?
Bein' President, maybe?

On a wintry day we were pushing our way,
Over the Dubuque trail.
Talk of your cold! Through the parka's fold
It stabbed like a rusty nail.
But behind us chased Hillary with Bill in tow,
And then came Obama makin' a show
Though freezin' and wheezin,' on plowed Johnnie
Plannin' his moves, gulping cold tea.

If our eyes we'd close, then our lids got froze
'Til sometimes we couldn't see.
It wasn't much fun, to be on the run
From the likes of Barack and that mean Hillary.
We cruised through the town, shaking all hands
Forcing our grins through cracked lips
Still shaking in a tiny motel. Was it the cold?
Or the lady with the large hips?

And that very night, as we lay packed tight,
In our jammies beneath the snow
The volunteers were fed and the stars o'erhead
Were tellin' a tale of woe.
When Johnnie turned to me, and "Friend" says he,
"This campaign is a big no go.
Barack is more youthful and making me old
And Hillary's got too much gold."

Well, he seemed so low, I couldn't say whoa,
Then he says with a gasping moan:
"Write me a speech that will let me win
Even if we have to sin.
Let me rush to the right of Barack
And throw some dirt on him too.
Make Hillary a fascist (she warred on Iraq)
And slime her good before I turn blue."

I do not know how long in the snow
I wrestled with my awful fear
But the stars came out and they danced about
So once more I got into gear.
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said:
"There's no better a man than Johnnie E.
Obama's got looks but not much smarts.
And she's lost her morals, that mean Hillary."

I worked all night by the candle light,
Scribblin' my lies, damnin' those two.
Trashin' Obama, a career so slight,
Hillary's morals, lower than whale doo.
Praisin' Johnnie, he sued for the people,
Robbin' the rich to give to the poor.
I raised him up like a great Church Steeple:
Johnnie for President! Am I really that sure?

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