Is that you again Bill Bennett
Born under your own star,
The national moral compass
And self-styled virtue tsar?

Does the past still make your cases?
And all things cawed by Cato?
Denouncing Greeks and all their ilk
‘Cept that is for Plato.

Yes, Cato too despised them Greeks
Save for his son’s learning,
As surely ‘The Republic’ suits
Your pretentious yearning.

And my you wax indignant
If someone mentions drugs.
You once were commissar in charge
Of hunting down the thugs.

So you practice prohibition
Jail young folk for their good
And crow ad nauseum of wins
Stained deep in foreign blood.

But where’s your shriek on alcohol?
On spirits of distill?
Does legal status leave you free
To dip into their till?

The taxless lunch of cozy chaff
With those of tidy sum
Whose parents scored the wealth they flaunt
By legging demon rum.

And what about them good old boys
From down tobacco row?
Their lobby bangs a lowly drum
And hush funds pall their show.

What really gets your goat is sex
It won’t be taught in school.
When Dr. Elders spoke a truth
She threatened virtue’s rule.

So you and Pat ganged up on her –
Ordered her contrition
With all those unctuous hypocrites –
The Christian Coalition.

And don’t those gays have you in flux?
You say we must be fair.
‘Til they want sex or level field
Your tolerance ends there.

You love the sinner not the sin
It’s not for genes but choice.
A bargain spawned of mal intent
Proclaimed from deepened voice

You read the bible, as we know
A deep and pious man.
And often cite Leviticus
To front your master plan.

You preach that welfare is for bums
From on your altar high
But greed brings down big business?
The state will resupply.

We should have far less government
The needy can piss off.
While you and all your corporate buds
Slurp from the public trough.

Have you supported gun control
Or thrown up old canards?
It’s mostly inner city types
Shot dead in their front yards.

So you fight to save tobacco
And access to all guns
There soon will be far less of them
To share your hard-earned funds.

Your crowd has learned the new game well
The modern feudalist.
Your rank well-couched in subtlety
Beneath you all is grist.

The wrong is inequality
The country’s oldest curse
You trickle down the meanest bits
With fists clenched on the purse.

A moralist needs enemies
Say drugs or dregs or drags,
Thanks much for coming down the mount
To rid us of our plagues.

The ‘death of outrage’ you proclaim,
In pietistic schtick
Empower (rich) America
Ah Billy, you’re so slick.

Copyright Paul Heno 2000