Sonnet VII
From miles around they come to see him speak,
Despite the fact his speeches are horrific,
His oratory could not be more weak
If it was watered down by the Pacific;
His voice is chill-inducingly abrasive,
His breath spurts out in phlegmy little seeps,
The only time his talks could be persuasive
Is if their aim was to give you the creeps;
To calm his nerves he doesn’t play that game
Of picturing his listeners in the nude,
Instead he drops his own pants with no shame,
Which normally would get a speaker booed;
Yet everyone accepts his tasteless acts, Since each speech ends with onion bagel snacks.
Yet everyone accepts his tasteless acts, Since each speech ends with onion bagel snacks.
