Chorus of Democrats and Republicans:

Is this the real vote? Is this just fantasy?
No Bush or Gore landslide, so we're mired in legalities
Almost a tie, both sides tell their lies with such ease . . .


Bush:
I'm just a rich boy, I need no sympathy
Because I'm easy come, easy go
I dropped the booze, I don't do blow
Anyway the vote goes doesn't really matter, to me


Mama, just love this ranch
Stocked my pond with fresh sea bass
How I love the upper class!
Mama, life is such good fun
But now they're trying to take it all away!
Mama, oooh, didn't mean to run for prez
But you know I always do what daddy sez
If I don't win this thing by noon tomorrow
I'll carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters


Gore:
Too late, my campaign's done, but I'm still working all the time
Poaching votes is not a crime!
Goodbye, everybody--no wait, I just can't go!
Let's count the chads and never ever face the truth

Bush:
Mama, ooooo, I don't mean to bitch
Sometimes I wish I'd never been born so rich


Bouncy piano interlude!

Gore:
I see a little silhouetto of a chad
Chorus:
You're a mooch, you're a mooch, will you do the recount tango?
Pregnant chads and backbiting, very very frightening to see!
Broward County, Palm Beach County
Broward County, Palm Beach County
Broward County, Volusia County, Tallahassee-oh-oh-oh!


Bush:
I'm just a rich boy, nobody loves me

Chorus:
He's just a rich boy from a rich family
They treat the White House like a Bush legacy!

Gore:
He's so dumb, I'm the one, will you give me votes?

Chorus (Republicans only):
Be still you wonk! You cannot have the votes!
Be still you wonk! You cannot have the votes!
Be still you wonk! You cannot have the votes!

Gore:
Can I have the votes?

Chorus (Republicans only):
Cannot have the votes!

No no no no no no no no!

Bush:
Oh mama mia, mama mia, mama mia keep my votes!

Chorus:
Beelzebub has a butterfly ballot for thee, for thee . . . .

Rockin' guitar solo!

Gore:
So you think you can beat me on the very first try?
So you think the recounts can't be done on the sly?
Oh Dubya, can't do this to me Dubya
We'll just keep counting, till I take the oath come next year!

Rockin' guitar solo gives way to orchestral crescendo and then a plaintive piano . . .

Chorus:
Ooh yeah, ooh yeah, ooh yeah
Gore:
Nothing really matters, as the country plainly sees
Bush:
Nothing really matters, cuz Al is just like me
Chorus:
Any way the votes go . . .
Gong.