Electoral Sonnet

A Bush, a Gore, a noun, a verb, two men
Of fam'lies well establish'd and renown'd
At Poly-Ticks and serving money's end
Two more likely patsies ne'er were found.

Less strength of will between them than a hound
Who prances and performs to get the treat
Yet one of these is who will have been crown'd
Our head of state when next our voters meet.

The whole damn thing's a sham, a ruse, a cheat
It sickens me to e'en admit my part
I work, I drive, I buy, I vote, I eat
I'd leave it all behind, had I the heart.

So what's a soul who wishes change to do?
I think I'll write newspoems, just like you...