A mostly original poem by Howard Kramer (with apologies to Emma Lazarus)
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed shore, a great great wall shall stand
A mighty man with a reality show, whose legacy
Are the failed businesses, and his name
Father of Apprentices. From his oddly small hands
Glows world wide warning; his wild eyes command
The crumbling infrastructure that hotel casinos frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your drugs, your crime, your rapists!” cries he
With flapping lips. “Give me those who, I assume, are good people,
But your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
They’re going to have to come in through a system.
We’re going to build a wall
(And nobody builds walls better than me, believe me)
And I’ll build them very inexpensively.
And I will have Mexico pay for that wall, mark my words,
And we’re going to have a door in the wall.
People are going to come into the country legally.
There are millions of people that want to come into the country.
Millions. They’re on a waiting list.
They’ve gone through documentation,
They’ve gone through all sorts of things,
They’re waiting on lists in some cases for years.
But there are those not sending their best.
They’re sending people that have lots of problems.
They came in illegally… they are here illegally.
These people wreak havoc on our population.
They’re going to have to go.
There will be a total and complete shutdown of Muslims
Entering the United States, until our country’s representatives
Can figure out what is going on.
And now I go to lift my lamp
Beside all my golden stuff!”