Roosevelt froze and felt
a nasty nip, chopping, tear
through the winter air.
Then he grabbed his belt,
barking “God dammit, I’ll wear
the trousers, the khaki pair,
give me stuff to pelt.”
Roosevelt froze and felt
a nasty nip, chopping, tear
through the winter air.
With a burning glare
he watched the old order melt,
laid the mat on which we’ve knelt
shaking in cold prayer.
Roosevelt froze and felt
a nasty nip, chopping, tear
through the winter air.
