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Would ad libs debunk it, Or resurrect her junket And remind each voter that her spade's not a spade? Though not a four-leaf clover, Her story had blown over Until such time as she'd invent her next escapade. But his chance to shine, This time on-line, Where his sheepish grin could begin A life of its own on a cell picturephone, Has proved Bill still could flunk it With fictions 'bout her junket, Replacing tales of snipers with a Clinton grenade.
Music & Original Lyric by Irving Berlin |