Posted by
Dennis Pemberton on Friday, September 26, 2008 5:08:57 PM
Act I
Scene I. A Swamp place
First Witch Harry:
When shall he come?
The one called The One?
Second Witch Nan:
When the deal's almost done,
When the battle's almost won.
Third Witch Christopher:
Thence shall we call,
We shall hand him the ball.
He shall take it proclaim himself the saviour,
And with this fakery curry the publick favor.
ALL:
The lucre's large, the fix is in
The world's ink is our kin
He shall be proclaimed a king
Without ever saying any-thing.
Scene II A Meeting Table
King George:
My time is short, for some not short enough
Now our coffers emptying, our bankers' lights are snuff't
The water's rising o'er our beam
If we do not bail now, hell 'twill seem
So I have called thee hence to parley
To put aside differences hardly
Of import in trouble times
And 'haps save me from my rhymes.
Fanfare. Obama arrives
Nan:
We are but vermin before his light
And blessed are we that the fight
He has paused to save us from
The night brought on by Bush One's son.
Harry:
He is here, his angel's wings left behind
He is here, in just the nick of time
The plan cannot be done,
Without the help of Illinois' son.
Chris: (aside)
We hand him a cake nearly baked
A horse nearly broken and tamed
A treaty waiting for signing only
So the credit will be his alone
Obama:
I am here, I have hopes you are not wasting my time.
I have hands to shake, smiles to make, my star's shine
Brightens as the publick follows me, my lead lengthens
My opponent pitiful squalls as my wave strengthens
Am I truly needed, though crisis there be
Because all in all, all is me.
George II: (aside)
Punk thou wert, punk thou art, punk thou shalt be
Have we come to this, that you may take my seat?
(to Obama)
Welcome brave sire, these witches three
Insist that you the saviour be.
If words of wisdom you invoke
Perhaps agreement you may provoke.
Good sir McCain has arriv'd as well,
Hopeful his presence peace will tell
McCain:
Welcome, sir, our battle's paused,
For our country's good, a join-ed cause
Obama:
Speaketh to my hand,
Thou wounded old man,
King George, I will have thy place
Take the Texian smirk from thy face
I am here for me, myself, and I
Now quick! I have not the time!
Witches:
Oh, One, tell us how we may stem
The bleeding, the pain, of common men
Only you can our plans make done
In you our hopes and dreams are one
Obama:
Son of Paul, our treasure you tend
Have you heard the plan of our Publican friends?
They seek to stick a dagger in this plan
Government's the fiend to them, not man
Your open'd purse they would seal
Frivolous claims that we would steal
The money of the taxed, the fruit of innocent labor
Have you heard this? These insults they savor?
Witches: (to one another)
What is he doing? What has he done?
The dung in the punchbowl, this is the One?
All hell will break out, look at him smug
No plan will pass, for him it merits not a shrug
Fighting breaks out; Obama exits, backing away
Nan: (to other witches)
Someone must be blamed if the One is to be saved
Not King George, all think him a knave
Harry: (pointing to McCain)
Look at him, all silent and still
He we will make the author of our ills!
Chris:
Call Matthews and Olbermann, the Times of York
Willing handmaidens a trick will work
Though Obama has laid an egg, then run
They will not, cannot sully the One.
'Tis McCain's fault. an explanation they will credit
Their gullibility and hatred 'twill never be our debit.
All Witches:
The C and double N, the MS of NBC
Call them, call them, call them to me!
Exeunt
George:
What has happened? Where did my meeting go?
Veins will open, tears will flow.
Exeunt All