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There was a man, a single man,
who couldn't stands no more.
And so he marched around the town
with signs that said he's sore.
It was a peaceful kind of burg,
where nothing much occurred,
until old Ed McGinty got things
muddled up and stirred.
His signs proclaimed that Trump was nuts,
or that he was a liar;
and you can't do that anymore,
without you start a fire.
His neighbors turned their backs on him;
his children even wept.
But brave McGinty kept it up;
no guff did he accept.
The cops came knocking on his door,
and asked him please to cease.
He told them earthy things you don't
too often tell police.
The mayor of the village called
a session to decide
how to shut McGinty up,
and all his signs to hide.
The counsel had the zoning board
find something petty, which
they used to bulldoze his poor shack
into a nearby ditch.
But still McGinty carried on;
you couldn't stop this man.
Possessions in a shopping cart,
around the town he ran.
"Impeach Again!" his sign now read;
he held it high and proud.
And that is why he was strung up
at last by some mad crowd.
McGinty's neck was very stiff;
it wouldn't snap at all.
And so the insane mob did try
to nail him to a wall.
The wall collapsed; McGinty lived.
You cannot stop a guy
when he gets old and adamant,
no matter how you try.
At last the town gave up on him
and washed their hands in wrath.
They let the great McGinty strut
around on his warpath.
I wish that I could say that he
continued to protest --
but when the spotlight disappeared,
he gave the thing a rest.
He took up golf and scrabble
and he bought a small RV.
He visits many grand kids
all around this big country.
When Ed McGinty passed away,
they called him a 'nice guy.'
And only Trump, in exile,
still was hoping he would fry . . .
