Sanford at the Bat
With apologies to Ernest Lawrence Thayer
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the governor that day,
The media mob was gathered to hear all he had to say;
So when he spoke of Christian values, and how it made him feel,
A pall-like silence fell as they heard the whole schlemiel.
The governor, his brow with sweat, began to ramble on,
He spoke of love forbidden, and waking up at dawn;
He spoke of hiking up and down, the Appalachian trail,
When in his heart he knew down deep, that this was just a tale.
Seven long minutes later, the point he finally made,
He had gone to Argentina in hopes of getting laid;
His wife and sons at home sat with their mouths aghast,
And all who sat in that room knew his time had passed.
From the benches, filled with people, there went a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;
“Who is she? The woman?” shouted someone from the stand
But this question went unanswered as the governor raised his hand.
He thought about his family and staff, but it was far too late,
Instead he rambled on about finding his true soul mate;
He spoke about his future, as black as night can be,
And wondered why those assembled could not see what he could see.
A hundred eyes were on him as he fumbled with his thoughts,
They watched him struggle with the trouble, his actions had done wrought;
He labored more of other women of whom he shared some wine,
Though quickly added he hadn’t crossed the ultimate line.
Oh somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout,
But there’s no joy in Charleston—mighty Sanford has struck out.