The outlook wasn't sunny for the Bigot crowd that day;
 The score stood fifty to forty-nine, with one going either way,
 And then when Lott died as leader, and Bush would do the same,
 A pall-like silence fell upon Republicans who actually had some shame.
 
 A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
 Clung to that hate which rests just under their evil breast;
 They thought, "If only Jesse could but get a whack at that -
 We'd put up even money now, with Jesse as our rat."
 
 But Strom preceded Jesse, as did Mister Jeffords,
 And the former was a bigot, while the latter struck some cords;
 So among the bigot Republicans, hate came and sat;
 For there seemed but small chance of Jesse getting to be their rat.
 
 But Strom lives on they say , to the wonderment of all,
 And Jeffords, the much despised, might just come play ball;
 And when the dust had lifted, and we saw what had occurred,
 There was AG Ashcroft  at Justice and Olson was still a turd.
 
 They had but fifty million votes or less in their slimy swill;
 Their money oozed  through the Senate, so sick'nin it could kill;
 It slithered to the White House lawn and recoiled upon the flat,
 For Jesse, bigot Jesse, was advancing to be their rat.
 
 There was sleaze in Jesse's manner as he stepped into his place;
 There was hate in Jesse's heart and a scowl darkened Jesse's face.
 And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
 No stranger in the crowd could doubt Jesse was their rat.
 
 Twelve billion eyes upon him as he rubbed his hands with glee.
 Six billion stomachs churned as he threw them to the sea.
 Then when the writhing Democrats went searching for a spine,
 Defiance flashed in Jesse's eye, as Jesse did his lyin' .
 
 And now the hate and venom came hurtling through the air,
 And Jesse yelled the loudest cause he knew the Dems'd just stare.
 They shouted out their hate and knew that it would spread
 "I just don' like them blacks, can't lett'im vote" he said.
 
 From the south, white bigots rose in unison and shouted out their roar,
 Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;
 "Kill them! Kill the them all!" they shouted in that south land;
 And they burned and raped and killed and Jesse lent his hand.
 
 With a scowl of hate and malice great Jesse's visage shone;
 He stirred the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
 He signaled to the gov'ners, and once more the hate it flew;
 And the clansmen's voices  rose and Jesse shouted venom too.
 
 "Freedom!" cried downcast blacks, the clan cried "Fraud!"
 But one hate filled word  from Jesse and the audience it was awed.
 They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
 And they knew that Jesse wouldn't let blacks rise again.
 
 The sneer has fled from Jesse's lip, the teeth are clenched in hate;
 He pounds with cruel violence the blacks upon the grate.
 And now the Democrats hold the cards, and now they them go,
 And now the air is shattered by the force of Jesse's blow.
 
 Everywhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
 The band is playing everywhere, and here hearts are light,
 And everywhere we all laugh and smile, bright as the sun ;
 But there is no joy for bigots - mighty Jesse will not run.