Strange bird where the night Aurora dances,
Husband of a blight; here's what his stance is:
He don't share the love of country that we do.

Pals around with guys who want exiting,
Terrorists whose prize is this quest: quitting
Then to live apart from the S.A. that's U.

Strange friends has this blight; he hangs with people
Who're deranged long winter nights
And want to foment
A movement like one we know
That happened below
A line where they slaved away,
And for five years the nation frayed, yet

He would rather fight with the Confed'rates,
Loves a land that's white--not just for sled fetes.
Wilkes-Booth was alright
For deranged acolytes.

Screw-loose screw-moose crew. . . .