I didn’t know John Merrow was a poet. But he is.

Stopping by Washington on a Snowy Evening

Whose swamp this is, I think I know:

Hails from Kenya, name starts with ‘O.’

He’s been dumped. I’m President Trump

It’s time for that loser to go.
He came to Washington talking about ‘hope.’

Nobel Prize or not, that makes him a dope.

To that mope, I say ‘nope.’

Let’s go find us some chicks to grope.
That house he lives in, historic and old

Not my style. I like bold

And I like huge, and (trust me) I’m huge.

I’ll fill it with women, cover it in gold.
‘Cause this swamp’s mine, it’s for sale.

This is my moment. No way I’ll fail.

Billionaires welcome, no Mexicans please.

Just say ‘Heil Donald’ (but pronounce it ‘hail’).
I’ll fill this swamp, call it ‘Trump Lake.’

Say I’m doing it for America’s…