Whenever Willard Romney came to town,
He would put on a show of vim,
He gave Obama a strong thumbs-down
And demanded we the people vote for him.
But he was always robotically displayed,
And never human when he talked,
But still he sought the voters when he said,
"Tax cuts for the rich," and he smirked at us when he mocked.
And he was rich--yes richer than a king--
And exculsively schooled in the right place,
And sometimes he would even try to sing,
Although his voice was not his saving grace.
So on we worked, and endured his spite,
And watched in awe as his campaign went kaput,
For Willard Romney, every single night,
Went on TV and put a bullet through his foot.