by Egon Richard Tausch
A toast to our Nation's Attorney on high,
Who from L.A. to Waco protects us.
"Come under my wing, little ones," (soothing sigh)
"And big ones" -- she never rejects us.
(Unless you're a cop in the heat of a bust,
Or religious and flaunt your distinction,
Or declare constitutional weapons a must --
Then Janet requests your extinction.)
Among rioters, murderers, muggers with guns --
Class-protected -- her kindness is boasted.
So hold Nanny's hand, think "correct", little ones
(Or be twice-tried, condemned, or be roasted).
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