What a drag it is being Ann!

If I didn’t name her name
You would know her just the same
By the signature disgruntlement here drawn
Of this tight-assed misanthrope
Whose amusing little trope
Gives it as her firm opinion that the Left is Satan’s minion.
It’s the same old rant each day—Ann has nothing new to say.

Like her shape, her sense lacks heft
When she’s putting down the Left
And it’s much the same when NeoCons she touts
Urging on her fellow nixers
Of those evil six-six-sixers,
Wicked Centrists who don’t buy it that the Right is always righ-it.
It’s the same old rant each day—Ann has nothing new to say.

When logic’s sicced
On her she’s picked
On. How unfair!
How does one dare?
What a drag it is being Ann!

And it’s hatefulness she thanks
For the bundle that she banks.
She’s the Rickles on the stage of politics,
Except laughs at some insult
Is all Don wants as result
While the spite she spews for pelf is Ms. Ann Coulter’s heartfelt self.
It’s the same old rant each day—Ann has nothing new to say.

When logic’s sicced
On her she’s picked
On. How unfair!
How does one dare?
What a drag it is being Ann!

Oh, but how the Right would grieve
If ol' Annie took her leave,
For Karl Rove is gone and Cheney’s soon to go
And if Coulter quit the helm
What would happen to the realm?
I don’t know, but you had better, if she does, stamp a red letter
On the unexpected day Ann had something new to say!