Note: Dean bias. If you can't deal with that in a humorous manner, please don't read any further.
'Twas the night before the caucus and all `round Kos country,
All the posters are anxious, and sick of Pickler punditry.
Their keyboards are broken, and spattered with food,
But waiting for voting causes many a sour mood.
The Deaniacs retire to sleep in their beds,
And visions of victory pleasure their heads.
John Kerry wakes screaming and causes a clatter,
Teresa comes running, and asks "what's the matter?"
"Dean is unelectable!" he angrily swore,
As his tears of defeat drip onto the floor.
The clock strikes eleven, then midnight, then one,
But all they can think of is "waiting is not fun!"
Eventually they fall into a comatose state,
But are suddenly awakened when alarms ring at eight.
"Oh shit!" they all cry, for work they are late,
They get ready fast while dreading their fate.
As they go to the punch clock and pray for some luck,
The Boss is waiting; they all mutter "fuck!"
He's ugly and Republican, a rich, pasty witch.
But his character is worse: another neo-con bitch.
"You're late for work today!" he screams with glee,
"Here's a pink slip for your service to me!"
Off to their houses the tortured ones go,
And it's only noon; 12 hours til they'll know.
The time slowly passes, a seeming eternity,
But it's all worth it with Doc's victory.
The waiting is almost over, and they pray for their guy.
The suspense is just awful, they wish they could die.
The results are in, the media announces
The winner is clear, the anchor pronounces!
Congrats Howard Dean, the day's solid winner,
Now on to George Dubya, the ultimate sinner!