Mitt trickled down to the Mitthouse
And day after day, throughout that great race
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The pundits and pollsters put forward their case,
"It's a neck and neck contest," their learned refrain,
Then Mitt's facile tongue seemed to ambush his brain.
He couldn't connect with the great middle class
And the aged and the poor made a left turn, en masse.
He professed to be one with the folks in the streets,
But in Mitt's heart of hearts, they were largely (47%) deadbeats,
And the Bible and guns group looked on with alarm
As he flipped and he flopped with his Etch-A-Sketch charm.
When the voters had spoken, when the last spin was spun,
Some were ecstatic and some were undone,
For Barack took the White House and another four years,
While Mitt trickled down to the Mitthouse, in tears.