A Poem by Michael Egan The Trumpublicans dream of a Coup Though they’re unsure of just what to doup Should they vote, should they fight, should they soup? How to handle the N and the Joup? When it comes down to enemies, houp? Will it end up as something they’ll roup? Will it stink like an Englishman’s loup Full of crap and bad smells and old poup? So here are a wise word…
"Please Don’t Boup"