Step One: At first, when people said he’d lied, He, bristling visibly, denied A lie or even a mistake In anything he did to take This country into a debacle That, like a nasty streptococcal Disease, seems endless and resists The many cures that he insists Will someday get us unensnared, While in his speeches he declared That people saying he misled Just helps the folks who want us dead.

Step Two: This Larry King’s a friendly sort, Who won’t object if guests distort The truth a bit, so pols all like To make announcements at his mike. Though Presidents don’t usually come, I see Bush there, admitting some Of what he said was slightly wrong. And Bush has brought his mom along. She smiles. He’s sounding slightly whiny While claiming falsehoods all were tiny– Just unimportant details. And he Says otherwise the war’s just dandy.

Step Three: Our Oprah, stern-faced, draws applause With questions while he hems and haws. She clears the mist that still enshrouds His yellowcake and mushroom clouds. She asks why, in the name of heaven, He tied Iraq to 9/11. Bush stares at her–a hollow stare. He’s all alone. His mom’s not there. He then admits, with eyes quite full, His tales have been all cock and bull. And Oprah says, “Well, fine. That’s great. For thousands, though, it comes too late.”