Good morning, scammer,
I’ll judge your felony.
I will sentence you, Tom D., whorin’ for Jack,
For scamming the district
Where you were elected.
No longer a Con[g]man,
You ain’t so well-protected.

Shell games got you, Tom D. . .
Law skirted. I’ll stick ya
Into, Tom D., the slam.

So best get ready
To find yourself a steady
Boyfriend and be havin’
Some unguent near for salvin’
Post-love-dart (ow-ow!)—
Pried nates, rear plugged.

You’ll do time—that is, as far as I’m
Concerned, Tom D., felon.
But with real good lawyer talk,
Tom D., you might just catch
A break in the appeals court.

Some guilty people
Do not land distinctly
Where they should, rejected
And scorned. But some conmen,
As you well know, Tom D.,
Get off ’cause they’re connected