The Removal of Donald Trump from the White House (with apologies to John Betjeman, and Oscar Wilde)

He swallowed an Ambien capsule,
And gazed at the Washington skies.
He pouted, characteristically,
And narrowed his gimlet eyes,

For the Resolute Desk had been cleared now,
Melania’s photo, and all;
And “The Bronco Buster” by Remington
Left a reproachful gap on the wall.

“I got to remember my Cestrol.
Kayleigh, just see it’s in hand —
How could they have been so nasty?
Help me to understand.

“And you’ve brought me the latest Fake News:
All Harris bullshit and stuff…
Know what? They betrayed the people,
And they’ll pay for it soon enough.

“There’s my best set of clubs in the West Wing —
My Titleists are back in Trump Tower,
With the balls sent by Vladimir Pooting,
During my first month in power…”

“More Ambien — where is my water?
Can’t you ring for the goddam staff!”
(His continuing zest for denial
Caused Kayleigh to stifle a laugh.)

A thump, and a murmur of voices —
”Can they do this to me? This is weird…”
As the door of the Office swung open

“Mr. Trump, we are here to escort you
From the Office denied you by Law:
We must ask you to leave with us quietly,
By the Jackson Place janitor’s door.”

He rose, and he put down the Fake News.
He staggered — and, terrible-eyed,
He brushed past a bust of Lincoln,
And was helped to a limo outside.