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You are old, PresDent Trumpster SJ Dodgson MJoTA 2016 v10n2p1110

On Nov 9, 2016, a septuagenarian awaiting trial for fraud and for raping a child, was declared presumptive 45th president of the United States of America.

Since the Reagan administration, we have had a 36-year downward slide of personal rights, increased taxes on workers, privatization and all the other evils that made so attractive the seeking refuge in the United States. The president-elect has a long history of not paying contractors and others loyal to him, so if he indeed does make it to Inauguration Day on January 20, 2017, he may dump his children, his right-wing advisors, and his businesses.

He is old, unhealthy and already has signs of senility. A good time to come to terms with the evil he has done all his life and make things right.

Added Feb 6, 2017:

Above, a dance from the Producers: a film made about a show guaranteed to fail. Like the reality show that is President Donald J Trump, inaugurated Jan 20, 2017.

You Are Wrong, PresDent Trumpster

by SJ Dodgson

MJoTA 2016 v10n2p1102


You are wrong, PresDent Trumpster, the young person cried,

    The sparse locks combed frontwards are bleak;

You tell lies, PresDent Trumpster, a demented sad man,

    Now tell me the reason for tweets.


In the days of my youth, PresDent Trumpster replied,

    I remembered that youth was not still,

My staff doctor wrote notes of exceptional health

    And I worked out by not paying bills.


You are wrong PresDent Trumpster, the young person cried,

    Each tweet makes you wronger & fatter

Are you ready with visa for wife number 4

    With wife 3 exiled in New York getting thinner?


In the days of my youth, PresDent Trumpster replied,

    I remember'd wifes' youths would not last;

I thought of my future whatever I did,

    And decided to dump all that past.


You are wrong PresDent Trumpster, the young person cried,

    Drugs keep you alive to make speeches and cons,

You forget each tweet, each woman, each word

    And bankrupt each business you can't bomb.


I am unhealthy and orange PresDent Trumpster replied

    Because I only move around on a stage;

In the days of my youth my Daddy wrote checks,

    And now all that I have is my rage.

In the interests of world peace, I am giving up my copyright to this poem. This means you can use it in any form, just do not pass it off as your own, because that is plagiarism. Use the Wikipedia commons model.

SJ Dodgson, Emerald Pademelon Press LLC, publisher
This poem has an interesting history. The original version, by Richard Southey in 1799, is reproduced at the bottom of the page, below the version written by Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (aka Lewis Carroll).
By Charles Lutwidge Dodgson

"You are old, Father William," the young man said,

"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head—
Do you think, at your age, it is right?"

"In my youth," Father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."

"You are old," said the youth, "As I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door—
Pray, what is the reason of that?"

"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment—one shilling a box—
Allow me to sell you a couple?"

"You are old," said the youth, "And your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak—
Pray, how did you manage to do it?"

"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life."

"You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose—
What made you so awfully clever?"

"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
Said his father; "don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs!"

By Richard Southey

"You are old, father William," the young man cried,
"The few locks which are left you are grey;
You are hale, father William, a hearty old man;
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," father William replied,
"I remember'd that youth would fly fast,
And abus'd not my health and my vigour at first,
That I never might need them at last."

"You are old, father William," the young man cried,
"And pleasures with youth pass away.
And yet you lament not the days that are gone;
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," father William replied,
"I remember'd that youth could not last;
I thought of the future, whatever I did,
That I never might grieve for the past."

"You are old, father William," the young man cried,
"And life must be hast'ning away;
You are cheerful and love to converse upon death;
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"I am cheerful, young man," father William replied,
"Let the cause thy attention engage;
In the days of my youth I remember'd my God!
And He hath not forgotten my age."