Woodward's Woeful Words

An eloquently crafted tale,
The masses with which to regale,
Lay the blame away from Bush
And save his sorry, little tush.
Now, to the rescue does Woodward sail.

It’s Cheney’s, Rumsfeld’s, Brenner’s fault,
The officers won’t say what’s what.
Intelligence too flawed and worse
Connecting dots is such a curse.
Short of Bush, the buck must stop!

No harm must touch this Christian King
His praise on high his minions sing.
The blame away from him must shine,
Bush cries, “The fault is never mine!
Dad, a Savior to me bring!”

Daddy Bush can’t help it, see,
He does what Barbra does decree
To once again from failure save,
(He’ll do this till he’s in his grave),
Responds at once to Georgie’s plea.

And, daddy calls his long time friend,
“Dear Woody, use your words to bend
The truth enough to save my child.
I fear he’s gone a little wild.”
So, Woodward puts to work his pen.

This oft told tale of privileged claim
Plays out again and plays the same.
Time after time, the mess is cleaned
By daddy going to extremes
To misdirect the mark of shame.

Now, into the circle file...