Fake news is Mad Cow’s refrain
It has been his daily distain.
The problem for Cow
Is that as of now
Fake news is the heart of his campaign.
Mad Cow will have a go
Everything Stormy, way down low
His mushroom penis is like his hair
Do not touch, do not dare
Not to worry, he’s all blow.
Mad Cow loves the lie
Keeping count impossible, but try.
Ten thousand plus
Is why we are making a fuss
This distorted sense of reality you can’t buy.
Mad Cow sits in his stench
Seeks diversion, a card trick, a wrench
I’m in your coffee, your cup of tea
I ask for nothing, not even a fee
And I will never sit on the bench.
Mad Cow has god on his side
Religion along for the ride
His cowering herd
Drunk on manna and curd
End Times deliciously fried.