Make Book On It

You may have heard – there’s a new book by James Comey.
There was a brief time I thought he was my homey:
That last look into Crooked Hillary’s email,
Which I thought would pull votes away from that female.

But as you know, our camaraderie soured.
I canned him last May, because I had that power.
One day he’s Director; the next he’s a goner.
That untruthful slime ball laid off – my great honor!

I claimed, at the time, he was fired for cause.
But then, in an interview, gave people pause
When I referenced “this Russia thing” to Lester Holt;
That comment stirred up an enormous revolt.

Soon enough, one thing just led to another,
Even though I and my team tried to smother
The Russia probe, by misdirecting and feinting;
Choice reputations in tatters through tainting.

Anyway – now Lyin’ Comey has published
300 pages of nothing but rubbish.
Billed as a tell-all, this tome literary
Titillates with talk of things urinary.

He, like some others, continues to linger
On rank speculation concerning my fingers.
He sometimes makes mention regarding the Russia probe,
And giddily quotes me. (I said, “I’m a germaphobe.”)

He likens me here to a Mafia kingpin;
I think he’s a leaker who wouldn’t stop singin’.
I’m tired of his leaks and the secrets he’s spillin’.
I wish I could give him a necktie – Sicilian.

In this book, Comey writes he is a fighter.
I wrote some books, but I had a ghostwriter.
Worst leader FBI has ever had.
Believe me on this, ‘cause I sure know from bad.

One thing’s for sure: as I cast these aspersions —
Sales guaranteed for the hardcover version.
I won’t buy; don’t know the last book I read.
I’ll wait for the movie to come out instead.


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