Frist On My List
Satire about Sen. Bill Frist (R-TN), handpicked by Bush to succeed Trent Lott as Senate Majority Leader
(Sung to the tune of "Kiss On My List" by Daryl Hall & John Oates)

(As sung by Dubya Bush)

MIDI music

(instrumental intro)

Trent Lott's blunder was the biggest of all time; what can I say?
Trent Lott should have kept his racist secrets away.
You think maybe I need help, no, I know, I'm all right... all right.
Lott's now better off by listening to friends' advice.

If you insist, just know though I'm pissed,
Lott won't be missed.
If you want to know what the reason is,
I have to smile for my guy, he's the reason why...

(Because Bill Frist) Bill Frist is on my list.
(Because Bill Frist) Bill Frist is on my list.
Because Bill Frist is on my list, we've survived the knife.
(Because Bill Frist) Bill Frist is on my list.
(Because Bill Frist) Bill Frist is on my list.
Because Bill Frist is on my list, we're safe on the Right.

Lott was crazy, blundering 'bout Strom Thurmond's history.
With our right wing make up this time, full control is to be.
Sometimes you'll regret what I'm doing;
I don't regret what I want... I want.
Trent Lott is now done, so, boo-hoo... My coup will go on.

If you insist, just know, though I'm pissed,
Lott won't be missed.
If you want to know what the reason is,
I have to smile for my guy, he's the reason why...

(Because Bill Frist) Bill Frist is on my list.
(Because Bill Frist) Bill Frist is on my list.
Because Bill Frist is on my list, we've survived the knife.
(Because Bill Frist) Bill Frist is on my list.
(Because Bill Frist) Bill Frist is on my list.
Because Bill Frist is on my list, we're safe on the Right.

(instrumental break and fadeout)

Trent Lott's Ass Is Blowin' Lots of Wind
Satire about Senator Trent Lott (R-MS), who recently stepped down as Senate Majority Leader
(Sung to the tune of "Blowin' In The Wind" by Bob Dylan)
By "Sassy" & "Boot Newt"

MIDI music

(instrumental intro)

How many times can Trent Lott be put down
For sayin' segregation was grand?
Yes, and how many times can apologies fail?
Lott claims we "misunderstand."
Yes, and how many backs will be turned when he lies,
Before Lott's forever banned?
Trent Lott's sore rear end... is blowin' lots of wind.
Trent Lott's ass is blowin' lots of wind.

How many times can Trent Lott f**k up
Before he is told, "goodbye"?
Yes, and how many years must one man have
To admit what he has denied?
Yes, how many deaths will it takes 'til he knows
That Jim Crow caused people to die?
Trent Lott's sore rear end... is blowin' lots of wind.
Trent Lott's ass is blowin' lots of wind.

How can Lott's cheerleaders discount and twist
He's pro-Confederacy?
Yes, and how many years has the press slapped his wrist,
For helping right wing lunacy?
Yes, and how many laws did Lott stand on its head
To drive civil rights to the sea?
Trent Lott's sore rear end... is blowin' lots of wind.
Trent Lott's ass is blowin' lots of wind.

Things Are Swell
(Sung to the tune of "Jingle Bells")

(As sung by Dubya Bush)

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(instrumental intro)

Flashing the word "Go,"
Get Saddam out of our way.
Oilfields we go,
Strafing all the way (rat-tat-tat!)

Kill Saddam, and bring
Oil profits' height.
Our neo-cons all love to sing
Their slaying song to fight, so...

Things are swell, things are swell.
We'll go all the way.
Ol' Saddam will cringe and hide,
For it's him we've come to slay-ay...

Things are swell, things are swell.
We'll go all the way.
Ol' Saddam will cringe and hide,
For it's him we've come to slay.

A year or so ago,
My daddy did confide:
"Hey, son, you're not too bright.
You need folks on your side.
Your polls are in the tank,
So Rove must hatch a plot,
To launch a war to guard your flank
To keep all that you've got."

Now...
Things are swell, things are swell.
We'll go all the way.
Ol' Saddam will cringe and hide,
For it's him we've come to slay-ay...

Things are swell, things are swell.
We'll go all the way.
Ol' Saddam will cringe and hide,
For it's him we've come to slay.

Control by the Right
Is now all but done.
Dems lack nerve to fight.
They can't delay us long.
Saddam is in our way.
His oil meets our need.
Not too long after Christmas Day,
We'll whack him like a weed.

Now...
Things are swell, things are swell.
We'll go all the way.
Ol' Saddam will cringe and hide,
For it's him we've come to slay-ay...

Things are swell, things are swell.
We'll go all the way.
Ol' Saddam will cringe and hide,
For it's him we've come to slay.

All I Want For Christmas Is Saddam's Defeat
(Sung to the tune of "All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth" by Spike Jones & His City Slickers)

(As sung by Dubya Bush:)

MIDI music

All I want for Christmas is Saddam's defeat,
Saddam's defeat, yes, Saddam's defeat!
I can grab his oil after his defeat.
Big Oil will have a Merry Christmas.

It's been too long - I want my way.
I want to drop the bomb and send the missles.
But my chance for war is weak.
So, in the dark, I whistle:

All I want for Christmas is Saddam's defeat,
Saddam's defeat, yes, Saddam's defeat!
I can grab his oil after his defeat.
Big Oil will have a Merry Christmas.



All I want for Christmas is Saddam's defeat,
Saddam's defeat, yes, Saddam's defeat!
I can grab his oil after his defeat.
Big Oil will have a Merry Christmas.

It's been too long - I want my way.
I want to drop the Bomb and send the missles.
But my chance for war is weak.
So, in the dark, I whistle:

All I want for Christmas is Saddam's defeat,
Saddam's defeat, yes, Saddam's defeat!
I can grab his oil after his defeat.
Big Oil will have a Merry Christmas.

Up At The White House
(Sung to the tune of "Up On The Housetop")
By Alvin Dover & W. Tong

As sung by Dubya's handlers at the White House

MIDI music

(instrumental intro)

Up at the White House, they rejoice.
Dick and Condi shape Shrub's voice.
Who propped up Bush when his polls all dove?
Life of their party, it's Karl Rove.

"Go! Karl! Go!" that's how they crow...
"Go! Karl! Go!" that's how they crow:
"Bush now enjoying war-time bliss.
Our Mr. Rove is true genius!"

These past two years, Rove worked like hell.
He filled Dubya's brain quite well.
Bush gave his cronies a tax giveback.
Bombed Afghanistan, and soon Iraq.

Go! Karl! Go!" that's how they crow...
"Go! Karl! Go!" that's how they crow:
"Bush now enjoying war time bliss.
Our Mr. Rove is true genius!"

Enron was hocking, and then soon fell.
World.com and Tyco croaked as well.
Their leaders, crooks whom we all despise,
Cronies of Dubya with long deep ties.

Go! Karl! Go!" that's how they crow...
"Go! Karl! Go!" that's how they crow:
"Bush now enjoying war time bliss.
Our Mr. Rove is true genius!"

It's The Most Wonderful Kind Of A Beer
(Sung to the tune of "It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year" by Andy Williams)

As sung by Jenna and Barbara Bush

MIDI music

(instrumental intro)

Drink the most wonderful kind of a beer.
In the bar, rebel-yelling,
There is nobody telling us
"Get out of here."
It's the most wonderful kind of a beer.

Here's the hap-happiest reason of all:
Fellow boozers send greetings
At our party meetings.
We're having a ball.
That's the hap-happiest reason of all.

Drinking parties we're hosting
To fun, we are toasting.
Our parents do not really know.
There'll be lots of tall stories
In bar lavatories
Of Bush business long, long ago.

Drink the most wonderful kind of a beer.
No one knows where we're going.
We're smart for not showing
What we're doing here.
It's the most wonderful kind of a beer.


(instrumental break)

...That's the hap-happiest reason of all.

Drinking parties we're hosting
To fun, we are toasting.
Our parents do not really know.
There'll be lots of tall stories
In bar lavatories
Of Bush business long, long ago.

Drink the most wonderful kind of a beer.
No one knows where we're going.
We're smart for not showing
What we're doing here.
It's the most wonderful kind of a beer.

Booze With Us
(Sung to the tune of "Blue Christmas" by Elvis Presley)

(As sung by Jenna & Barbara Bush to their drinking buddies:)

Click HERE for MIDI music

(instrumental intro)

Come have some booze...
With us - how 'bout you?
You don't want to?
We're drinking... without you.
When our faces turn red,
We're as drunk as can be.
Because we're famous,
We're never found guilty...

And when our booze...
Headaches... start hurtin',
We will just lose memory, for certain.
Come booze with us all night;
It will be out of sight!
As long... as there's booze here with us.

Come have some booze...
With us - how 'bout you?
You don't want to?
We're drinking... without you.
When our faces turn red,
We're as drunk as can be.
Because we're famous,
We're never found guilty...

And when our booze...
Headaches... start hurtin',
We will just lose memory, for certain.
Come booze with us all night;
It will be out of sight!
As long... as there's booze here with us.
As long... as there's booze here with us.

The Racist Song
(Sung to the tune of "The Christmas Song" by Nat King Cole")
By Alvin Dover & W. Tong

MIDI music

(instrumental intro)

Mister Trent Lott withered under fire.
Racist past we all oppose.
What Lott said earned the citizens' ire.
Yes, Lott messed up from words he chose.

Everybody knows he's racist and Lott has to go.
He deserved just what he got.
A dark spot from his past which arose.
Now we have seen the fall of Lott.

So Dubya shoved Lott on his way.
The White House feigned a lot of outrage and dismay.
Lott got his party riled, and here is why:
They fear their far right wing agenda may not fly.

Lott goes, for offering Strom words of praise.
For Lott loved segregation, too.
Although Lott once led, he's been sent on his way.
Too bad, racists - boo hoo!

So Dubya shoved Lott on his way.
The White House feigned a lot of outrage and dismay.
Lott got his party riled, and here is why:
They fear their far right wing agenda may not fly.

Lott goes, for offering Strom words of praise.
For Lott loved segregation, too.
Although Lott once led, he's been sent on his way.
Too bad, racists - boo hoo!

Bush Team Deceivers
(Sung to the tune of "Daydream Believer" by The Monkees)

MIDI music

(instrumental intro)

Shrub had to hide he's right wing, and was crowned de facto king.
Our civil rights, he's harmed; not his thing.
But this king, who's despised, fools the sheep with his big lies.
This faker's lies exposed; that must sting.

Sneer at Shrub the King, who don't know a thing.
As the Bush Team deceivers keep Bush from fracturing...

Shrub is... thought to be... such a lightweight, who must need
Much advice from Poppy, constantly.
It's now a good time for his friends;
War time spending without end.
They've got Bush Baby there, to feed their greed.

Sneer at Shrub the King, who don't know a thing.
As the Bush Team deceivers keep Bush from fracturing...

Sneer at Shrub the King, who don't know a thing.
As the Bush Team deceivers keep Bush from fracturing...

(instrumental break)

Sneer at Shrub the King, who don't know a thing.
As the Bush Team deceivers keep Bush from fracturing...

Sneer at Shrub the King, who don't know a thing.
As the Bush Team deceivers keep Bush from fracturing...

(repeat refrain and fade)

Lott Hangs On
Satire about returning Senate Majority Leader Trent Lott (R-MS), whose praise of Strom Thurmond's 1948 segregationist presidental campaign has ignited a political firestorm
(Sung to the tune of "Let's Hang On" by Frankie Valli & The Four Season)

Click for MIDI music

(instrumental intro)

It does no good, though Trent Lott's tryin'
To take back, 'cause no one's buyin'
All his lyin'...
(You've heard Trent Lott's... boo-boo, boo-boo, boo-boo)
(You've heard Trent Lott's... boo-boo, boo-boo, boo-boo)
(You've heard Trent Lott's... boo-boo, boo-boo, boo-boo)
(You've heard Trent Lott's... boo-boo, boo-boo, boo-boo)

Lott hangs on to power he's got.
But does this world need more Trent Lott?
Used excuses to deceive us,
Hangs on, hangs on, hangs on
To what he's got.
(You've heard Trent Lott's... boo-boo, boo-boo, boo-boo)
(You've heard Trent Lott's... boo-boo, boo-boo, boo-boo)

Folks say he's gotta go, should call it quits.
What he said appalled,
But pleased the right wing twits.
(Wake him up) Lott wishes he never said it.
(Wake him up) Oh, no, he will regret it.
That segregated time in our fair land,
Back when Strom Thurmond ran,
Most folks understand:
(Jim Crows laws) Which bigots used to blind us.
(Jim Crow laws) We're glad we've left behind us.
Crazy (Lott must go), Crazy (Lott must go),
Crazy (Think it's over - don't stay)...

Lott hangs on to power he's got.
But does this world need more Trent Lott?
Used excuses to deceive us,
Hangs on, hangs on, hangs on
To what he's got.


(You've heard Trent Lott's... boo-boo, boo-boo, boo-boo)
(You've heard Trent Lott's... boo-boo, boo-boo, boo-boo)

There isn't anything Trent Lott can do.
He'll have to pay a price the G.O.P. will rue.
(Ratchet up) Watch Lott wither and burn.
(Ratchet up) Won't cool off while he's burning.
It's got him cryin', sighin' "Please, no more."
"Don't shut me out from the Senate floor."
(I fu**ed up) Strom's one hundred years old.
(I fu**ed up) I made a verbal miscue.
Save me (I won't go), save me (I won't go)
Save me (Think it's over? No way!)

Lott hangs on to power he's got.
But does this world need more Trent Lott?
Used excuses to deceive us.
Hangs on, hangs on, hangs on
To what he's got.

Lott hangs on to power he's got.
But does this world need more Trent Lott?
Use excuses to deceive us.
Hangs on, hangs on, hangs on
To what he's got.

(fade)

Ashcroft Is A Nervous Guy
(Sung to the tune of "Angels We Have Heard On High")

MIDI music

(instrumental intro)

Ashcroft is a nervous guy.
His police state is insane.
He will use his goons to spy
On those who go 'gainst the grain.

Wa-a-a-a-a-ar... wa-a-a-a-ar... wa-ar on all of us.
His excess means jail.
Wa-a-a-a-a-ar... wa-a-a-a-ar... wa-ar on all of us.
His excess means jail.

Ashcroft wants theocracy.
Sing these songs; at him, we jeer.
Moral uptightness lunacy;
His kind would rule us through fear.

Wa-a-a-a-a-ar... wa-a-a-a-ar... wa-ar on all of us.
His excess means jail.
Wa-a-a-a-a-ar... wa-a-a-a-ar... wa-ar on all of us.
His excess means jail.

Naked statues you can't see.
"Let the eagle soar," he'll sing.
He'll enforce Bush tyranny.
Abuse power to serve the king.

Wa-a-a-a-a-ar... wa-a-a-a-ar... wa-ar on all of us.
His excess means jail.
Wa-a-a-a-a-ar... wa-a-a-a-ar... wa-ar on all of us.
His excess means jail.

Don't Tell Any Accountants
(Sung to the tune of "Go Tell It On The Mountain")

As $ung by Bush's corrupt crony capitalists:

Click to hear MIDI music

Don't tell any accountants
We cooked the bills, but we don't care.
Don't tell any accountants
Our biggest heist is foreign.

We'll prey on those weaker,
Who thought there was fair play.
We can't afford to help those
Who just stand in our way.

Don't tell any accountants
We cooked the bills, but we don't care.
Don't tell any accountants
Our biggest heist is foreign.

Ignored investors' anger;
Their funds our heist had shorn,
Through stock manipulation,
And secrecy we've sworn.

Don't tell any accountants
We cooked the bills, but we don't care.
Don't tell any accountants
Our biggest heist is foreign.

Bush made Harvey Pitt "watchman."
Then we watched Enron fall.
Kept our market position
Through theft, to win it all.

Don't tell any accountants
We cooked the bills, but we don't care.
Don't tell any accountants
Our biggest heist is foreign.

Here's one for embattled Senator Trent Lott, who just announced today that he's stepping down as Senate Majority Leader.

OUST MR. TRENT LOTT
Satire about returning Senate Majority Leader Trent Lott (R-MS), whose praise of Strom Thurmond's 1948 segregationist presidental campaign has ignited a political firestorm
(Sung to the tune of "Up On The Housetop")

Click HERE for MIDI music

(instrumental intro)

Oust Mr. Trent Lott now, because
His friends can't defend his flaws.
Reasons were flimsy when he made noise
Sayin' Strom should have won; showed no poise.

Lott must go! He ought to know.
Lott must go! He ought to know.
Oust Mr. Trent Lott, quick, quick, quick!
Alibis flimsy, and they won't stick.

Lott's words were shocking, so he caught hell.
White power mantra worked so well.
Such was his folly, to act surprised.
Talk like a bigot gets you despised.

Lott must go! He ought to know.
Lott must go! He ought to know.
Oust Mr. Trent Lott, quick, quick, quick!
Alibis flimsy, and they won't stick.

Some on the right wing would be his shill.
They believe Lott's notorious swill.
Lott's getting hammered and may get sacked.
Now from the White House, he's been attacked.

Lott must go! He ought to know.
Lott must go! He ought to know.
Oust Mr. Trent Lott, quick, quick, quick!
Alibis flimsy, and they won't stick.