by Deana Chadwell 1/18/14
(with apologies to Shell Silverstein and Dirty Dan)
I’m Uncle Sam, in a terrible jam,
And I just can’t believe what I’m seeing —
They camp in my name, an embarrassing shame,
The stoned, and the mad and the peeing.
But they see this land as a little too mean,
Or else it’s a little too rich.
It’s ugly, demanding, expensive and cruel
And unfair, and completely a bitch.
They can’t get a job; they don’t want to get clean,
And they’re too busy hating the rich.
As Uncle Sam, I am who I am
And I cannot pretend that I’m Lenin.
I won’t “cradle-to-grave;” I honor the brave
Not the selfish and whinin’ and spendin’.
I’m red, white and blue, I’m tough and I’m true;
I can’t buy that fairytale livin’–
Believin’ the gov’ment can do all my work,
My eatin’ and sleepin’ and givin’.
Think that & you steal, and don’t see what’s real
And expect someone else to fix things.
It’s time we all woke, before we all choke
And these social “injustices” nix things.
All through the land, the deluded they stand
Wielding placards that don’t speak the truth.
They think if they yell, and try hard to smell,
I’ll bow and scrape to their youth.
But not Old Sam, I’m a real stubborn man
And I know what works and what won’t;
From the lies they’ve been fed, their brains are all dead,
So I have to shout, “No, you don’t!”
‘Cause I see this land as a place to be free,
It’s freedom they want to exchange
For tuition and groceries and houses and cars —
I’m afraid they must be deranged
So let’s push ‘em back; independence is key —
We will NEVER want this kind of change.
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