The polls opened at seven but the line had already formed
They were there to vote even though the press had called them uninformed
They came from the back woods, small neighborhoods and farms
They were the once proud working class, called deplorables now up in arms
They stood in the cold speaking in low voices
Probably wouldn’t have voted at all given the choices
These were the silent people ignored by the government
By the powerful elite claiming behind closed doors they were transparent
They had been called racist, sexist, homophobic among other things
But to be looked down on by some soft pious ex first lady really stings
They were broken and bent from years of hard labor and military service
And the fact this person might step on their rights made them nervous
Some didn’t choose to join the military they went as they were drafted
Once discharged they went back to their jobs but VA healthcare left them shafted
They endured the hardships and the cold treatment they received
It seemed like a fixable problem but the wait time for doctoring went unrelieved
The military and home life had taught them with all people to coexist
But now they were called racist and that had them pissed
But they didn’t riot, interrupt traffic, or wear causes on their sleeves
People have a right to their opinion if in the Constitution one believes
This wasn’t a vote of a woman against a man
It was against four more years of a failed national plan
This was against a photo op person in a Cubs hat trying to look cool
When all knew she’d be hard pressed to explain the infield fly rule
She seemed ill at ease in any location surrounded by citizens
As some might not actually share her far left visions
Because these deplorables knew for sure there was no free lunch
So they came out on the cold morning to throw a desperate counter punch
They stood on crutches, in wheelchairs, and leaning on canes
To sign the forms or make their mark in spite of their pains
They couldn’t win, said the press. They didn’t have a chance.
We’ve got it in a walk, lets all prepare for our victory dance.
Somewhere birds are singing, somewhere children shout
But there is no joy in Washington as the mighty Media has struck out
Leave a Reply