Not Another Trump Musical!

Here is a song from my musical- in- progress, which have recently re-titled, from the original, D.C.!, and it is now called…

                    The Donald
Who can build a high wall, ban the Muslims, too?
Who can take America back from those of browner hue?
The Can-Do Man can, yes the Can-Do Man can
The Can-Do Man can, because he says that he can, what don’t you understand?

Who can bring our jobs back from those bastards overseas?
Who will give us back the right to mock the crippled and diseased?
The Can-Do Man can (Trump breaks in) I’m the the Can-Do Man, friends!

I can do it man, a Can-do Man is what I am, I am everything you hope a savior is
A leader who knows more, who acts in a manner like no leader before this

You called and I did answer, I’ll save the USA
But not with diplomacy , brains, or sense, I’ll do it my own way, if Putin says I may.
The Can-Do Man can, with the helm in my hand.
I can do what I say ….(fade)

8 responses to this post.

  1. thank goodness it’s The Donald as that “helm in the hand” stuff with Bill Clinton could be PuNY. yeah yeah, I think i’m witty, soooo witty….. I’m going to request into some jerry reed reworded – lord mr ford… the lady is a woman ought have some possibilities… you could keep the hook simple with kulture club / karma camelion. sneak in some waylan jennings…just a good ole boys…putin may enter into that 😀 request happy he is!!


    • Great suggestions! I used a Waylon song already, I will send you a link shortly.


    • Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up Multicultural*


      Our kids dress like Negroes and dance to their rhythms
      Mexicans sneak in and take our jobs back home with’em.
      Canada’s health care and climate ain’t all that hot,
      They’re almost French anyway
      Old Europe ‘s gone communist, I hear Asia’s about bought us
      And Cubans just seem kinda gay.

      Mothers, don’t let your babies grow up multi-cultural
      teach’em that all Muslims are blowin’ up trucks
      tell’em ev’ry religion but ours really sucks.
      Mothers, don’t let your babies grow up multi-cultural
      They need home schoolin’ so they won’t be foolin’
      with any foreign-type ways.

      You know, over there they eat food that’s lain for days in the dirt,
      gobble up bugs and grubs, always wearin’ the same ol’ shirt
      Tell your children beware of the World’s met-eric system,
      don’t let’em take any second languages lessons.
      If an Aussie has something to say, he has to tell us in English
      But we don’t listen to them anyway

      Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up thinkin’ global
      Don’t worry about the opinions of other nations,
      We have the nukes to ensure their annihilation.
      Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up multicultural
      ’cause only by acting as if no one’s our equal
      can we justify our own ignorant ways.


  2. Great, truly great,great song. Notwithstanding that this candy-colored ‘canned-‘do vile vial of toilet-seat venom hasn’t a chance of fixing a goddamn thing. In my version of the tune, the ‘,,,fade..’ happens at the start of the first verse.
    Anyway, your work is, by contrast, professional; good rhyme and rhythm. ‘Four more years’ for you…


    • The ‘Hitler’ analogies are stale; I think of Trump as Darth Vader, and America as the Deathstar.
      It isn’t just Trump. people I respect in so many other ways act like a mob when it comes to Benedict Donald. He cozies up to Putin, suddenly the Russians are christian freedom-fighters. Friends cheer Trump’s refusal to engage in the back-and-forth of a press conference, they are positively thrilled that all they get to hear is what He tells them!
      Brown shirts are coming back into fashion, the lampshades will come in a variety of colors.


  3. Agreed, 100 %, I have only 3 people I know who fell for the poisonous cotton-candy, and I now relate to them like characters in a cheap horror-flick, where, as the camera pans to show a rear-view, we scream in shock to discover that a once-trusted friend is actually one of ‘Them’. (Nicholson dancing with his long-dead lover in ‘The Shining, for example. ) I’m finding myself, sadly, revising my ‘parameters’ for what browsers call ‘Trusted Sites’. the US electorate would have been better served by voting for, say, Bugs Bunny, carrots and all. We’re seeing an early exodus of competent civil servants from any agency slated for gutting. Folks whose washing machines aren’t up to the task of nightly laundry to rid them of the stench of working for a ‘Dumb and Dumber’ imposter.


    • two family members besides myself, are NOT trumpified! This area is extremely red, Clinton signs were a rarity.
      But all these independent-types are suddenly lemmings, ready to jump over the cliff until told to throw themselves off a bridge.
      Myself, I finally found a parking meter that I trust, to hell with the tickets.


      • Lots of metaphors there; guard your meter, before, (if I may lasso Dylan the noble lariat into the fray) , the ‘vandals steal the handles’. Quaint, that the ‘Know-Nuttin’s evoke Reagan’s ‘a rising sea lifts all ships’. Yes, seas shall rise, but the hard-won ships of environmental protection, women’s rights, immigrants’ basic rights (we’ll need ’em to build the wall) will founder on shoals.
        Ha, I’m lecturing *you* on ship-navigation!
        The challenge as I see it is to steadfastly refuse to ‘normalize’ this demonstrably ‘demon’ event.
        Reminds me of a (don’t try this at home!) ‘test’ I did once, out of sheer curiosity, when my oil-furnace was ‘injured’ and spewing Carbon Monoxide. Asked myself: ‘so, folks breathing this stuff, they gotta *know* at some point that they be going under, right? Answer: No!, the faux-bliss warps yer mind, and the body it’s attached to, into a sad statistic in the local paper. I saved myself at the very last moment, and learned a valuable lesson. Beware the candy-man

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