McCain:
My friends, Barack gives lots of talk, his ideas are far flung,
I was born with a silver spoon, he, with a silver tongue.
I want to drill, there're tanks to fill, "full tires," is all he sung,
He thinks Iraq was a mistake, forgive him, he is young.
With banks failing, whiners wailing, to Phil Gramm I have clung.
With all my cars and my estates, nice things, I am among...
Deregulate! Keating was great! ***hide***, the market bell has rung.
Now with Colin, out extolling, "that one," can bust a lung.
I have my bearings, country first, my mobs are just high strung.
I understand, am in command, of hate-filled crowds I brung!
Suspending my campaign took guts, I admit that it stung,
McCain-Palin, ain’t yet failin, tonight...we’ll all Wang Chung.
Barack:
With due respect, I do suspect-- you have become a loon.
Face me, shake my hand, Senator-- you think I'm a baboon?
Eight years ago your talk seemed straight-- why now the hate-filled tune?
Your use of fear is all too clear-- pundits no longer swoon.
Maverick no more, they know the score-- for you, it is high noon.
You bring up Ayers, but no one cares,-- to this, I am immune.
Joe the Plumber...what a bummer—try harder to attune.
Claims of taxing are climaxing-- look elsewhere to lampoon.
Analogies, and effigies, a jib-jab-esque cartoon,
In this historic race it's like—"3 hour tour" meets typhoon,
PrOfessor –vs.- The Skipper-- In Gilligan's lagoon.
The "Little Buddy" is Palin, but Cindy’s the Tycoon.
I organize and empathize-- I've found it's quite a boon.
My vision's an oil free future-- not more oil from a dune.
My hope-a-scope, will help us cope-- our brand abroad mis-strewn.
To repair our, image gone sour-- a landslide we’ll win soon.