Wow!  Looking back over the archives, I see it has been over a year since my last Pack-Rat post.  I’m certain there are dozens of verses I’ve let fall through the cracks in that time, but now I have at least rescued the ones from January and early February of this year.  If I ever get motivated, I might go fishing through the previous months as well.  Probably not.  Anyway, the link below each verse will bring you to the post where I found it, should you desire any context.  

When Russia launched their satellite

I watched it from Wasilla

While keepin’ watch for freedom’s sake,

A patriot guerilla.

This “Sputnik moment” I recall

From element’ry school—

I didn’t listen, though, because

It wouldn’t have been cool.

But now, they ask me questions, cos

I want to run for POTUS;

I’ll make up something dumb instead—

My base will never notice.

Higglety-Pigglety

Kenneth the porcophile

Feels that Kentuckians

Don’t care for Ham–

Thinking so backwards it’s

Antediluvian;

Most of them probably

Don’t give a damn.

Believers offended? Well, pardon my shrug;

They’ll call me a wimp, or they’ll call me a thug;

They think it’s a feature–it’s really a bug,

So yes, I’m a little bit smug.

The arguments come and the arguments go

There’s always one hiding they promise to show

That will tear me asunder! They strut and they crow,

But does it arrive? Sadly, no.

The dusty old logic that’s polished anew

The same dead-end leads that they used to pursue;

It’s tough to defend such a bankrupt world view

When the truth is, it’s simply untrue.

Rebecca had a heart of gold–

At least, she said, gold-clad

She promised it was mine alone

But now I’m feeling sad

I thought her quite a treasure then,

But now I’m filled with doubt:

It wasn’t worth a nickel

Once I cut the sucker out.

To the best of his ability,

The Pope, in his nobility

Affected a fragility

Through Papal force of will

So he (I’m feeling catty) can

Pretend the gilded Vatican

Is destitute and ratty, and

Have others foot the bill.

It’s disgusting and immoral

But it isn’t sex–it’s oral,

Which, by presidential precedent, is perfectly ok

Though it’s true you spilt your semen

You can blame it on the demon

And we’ll tell the press it’s good you’re not a pedophile or gay.

An exorcist can exercise

Between her lips, but not her thighs

The sacrosanct vagina is off limits to a priest!

When the church’s inquisition

Finds abuse of your position,

Not a soul alive expects a penance greater than the least.