******
In the truck stops along the way,
Politics are discussed, both night and day.
Sooner or latter, comes comment about
Vermillion's son, who's in a pout.
He gets no credit, not even attention
From those who should know his mein.
He's a product of that university town
That has few sons of renown.
Built on a twisting Missouri bank,
The town has only itself to thank.
It had its chance at greatness
But in politics its made a mess.
The University went into a conipt
Or a tragi-comedy without a script.
The junior senator was elected based on
The popularity of the Universities favorite son.
Students, never the most astute in politic
Confused the father and son in the thick
Of a battle for the U. S. Senate post
Against a Republican. South Dakota lost.
For what did this man of no name
Claim his dubious place in fame?
He ran on his son's record at the school
Of being popular with educated fool(s).
After some six plus years in Washington town,
Vermin's citizens have trouble placing this man of renown.
While the sign post at the cities gate
States proudly that here's the hometown of this great.
No one seems to know or can find
This one's house. Perhaps its only a state of mind.
Locals at Cowboys, the meeting place
Say, even the barber can't rember his face.
This small man with no accomplishments to be shown
Is wrapping himself in son's uniform as if his own.
The boy stood up against the hordes of Asia
In meeting his military obligation.
While dad lived the good life in D.C., city
He never gave the South Dakotans, pity.
Never saw the way that farmers plight
Might turn into a nasty fight.
Enters a popular son of the soil
Who thought it time to lance this boil.
Bring attention to the people
Of this simple one, a pimple.
This man of no name
Now cries out - it's a shame
That Indians have no homes
And the drought has bleached the cattle's bones.
Science must use the deep cuts
Made by miners seeking gold dust.
Put a project deep in the Hills
Spend money from the Nation's Tills.
Make up for the lack of attention
By promising what every - a vote to win.
Claims to be a man of the sod
Turning over dirt and clod.
But the dirt he digs most deep
Is pay-back to his man, the keep.
Daschle's every wish and whim
Gets him a bumblin.
Voting as a socialist or worse
Never mind South Dakota?s course.
Unless his master pulls the string.
His voice's like a basenji.
Time to retire this boy of the plains
Who's comfortable in eastern shenanigans.
Let him live in Washington town
Mongst the scabs of renown.
EPILOGUE:
Alas, South Dakota coyotes
By a margin of less than 500 votes
Reelected Timmy boy to another term.
Dashle?s shadow. Will they ever learn?
****
Joe Wortham's Home Page, About Joe Wortham, Directory of Web Pages
Questions? Comments? [email protected]