Politicians love to find an issue that can rile the crowd – salesmen selling themselves. In a parody best performed rather than typed, here’s a song from The Music Man adapted to the political arena. It picks on Donald Trump – no apologies there – but it applies to almost any politician who relies heavily on consultants to craft his/her message – and that’s any politician.

Trump, in fact, may follow these “rules” a bit less than his opponents – or perhaps he’s doing a better job of it. (And apologies to Meredith Wilson.)

Forget the original song? The YouTube link is at the bottom.

Ya got trouble (political version)

Donald Trump:

Well, ya got trouble, my friend, trouble right here, I say, trouble right here in America.

Why sure I’m a resort builder, certainly mighty proud to say, I’m always mighty proud to say it. I consider that the hours I spend with a contract in my hand are golden.

Help you cultivate horse sense and a cool head and a keen eye. Did ya ever use eminent domain to kick a widow out on her ass?

But just as I say, it takes judgment, brains and maturity to score in a political game, I say that any boob kin take and stick his name on a ballot.

And they call that shady, the first big step on the road to the depths of deg-ra-day-tion, I say, first, a third-generation loser, then a guy who sweats like iced tea in summer.

An’ the next thing ya know, your vote is going to a Dem in a rose-pink suit. And listenin’ to this big out-a-town woman, hearin’ her tell about health care gamblin’.

Not a wholesome checkup, no! But medicine where they give everything away free! Like to see some stuck-up doctor fixin’ up Che Guevara? Make your blood boil? Well, I should say.

Friends, let me tell you what I mean:

You got one, two, three, four, five, six loophole tax deductions. Loopholes that mark the difference between a billionaire and Walmart bums, with a capital B,” and that rhymes with “P” and that stands for polls!

And all week long in America, youth’ll be fritterin’ away – I say your young voters’ll be fritterin’! Fritterin’ away their noontime, suppertime, chore time too! Get the Mexican outta here. Never mind gittin’ taxes fair or the Supreme Court filled or the beef inspected.

Never mind pumpin’ clean water ‘til Flint is caught with a cistern fulla lead on a Saturday night and that’s trouble, oh, yes we got lots and lots a’ trouble.

I’m thinkin’ of the kids in the colleges, shirttail young ones, peekin’ at political debates after school, ya got trouble, folks! Right here in America. Trouble with a capital “T” and that rhymes with “P” and that stands for polls!

Now, I know all you folks are the right kinda parents. I’m gonna be perfectly frank: Would ya like to know what kinda conversation they need to hear at the debates?

We’re talkin’ about Benghazi, talkin’ about emails, talking’ about gay marriage that offends the eye of God! And braggin’ about how we’re gonna cover up changes with tax cuts.

One fine night, we leave the debates, headin’ for the vote at the Armory! Republican men and tall blond women! And classic rock – shameless music that’ll grab your son, your daughter with the arms of a jungle animal instinct!

Mass-steria!

Friends, the idle brain is a Democrat’s playground!

People:

Trouble, oh we got trouble,

Right here in America!

With a capital “T” that rhymes with “P” and that stands for polls, that stands for polls.

We’ve surely got trouble!

Right here in America, right here!

Gotta figure out a way to keep the young ones moral after school!

Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble…

Donald Trump:

Mothers of America! Heed that warning before it’s too late! Watch for the telltale sign of corruption!

The minute your son leaves the house, does he wonder if women control their own bodies?

Is there a soft spot for the poor and sick?

Has he bookmarked healthcare.gov?

Is he starting to memorize quotes from Martin Luther King speeches?

Are certain words creeping into his conversation? Words like … like “socialism”? And “free college education”?

Ah hah! Well, if so my friends, ya got trouble …

Right here in America! With a capital “T” and that rhymes with “P” and that stands for polls.

We’ve surely got trouble!

Right here in America!

Remember the Maine, Plymouth Rock and the Golden Rule!

Oh, we’ve got trouble.

We’re in terrible, terrible trouble.  That gal beside the Democrat socialist Jew is the devil’s tool!

Oh yes we got trouble, trouble, trouble!

With a “T”! That rhymes with “P”! And that stands for polls!

© 2016 SmithTakes.com