The Trumpywump – the second term

 Beware, beware the Trumpywump
His skin is orange, he likes to pump,
Back in the house, with a bigger desk,
His second term is quite grotesque.

The big white house by the deep, dark wood,
Now had him back, and he was not good.
He claimed a mandate, huge and grand,
To rule again over all the land.
He pardoned his friends and fired the staff,
And watched the news just to have a laugh.
With tariffs and laws and presidential power,
The goblin grew bolder by the hour.

He sat at his desk and began to sign
executive orders with DOGE design.
The court was his friend, the judges all stayed,
While plans for his foes were carefully made.
From hot Latin lands to frozen north,
He wanted black gold to spring forth.
‘Don’t be greedy!’ shouted the Lego Queen 
‘You already have an island in the Caribbean!’

Beware, beware the Trumpywump
His skin is orange, he likes to pump,
Back in the house, with a bigger desk,
His second term is quite grotesque.

Back in the village of Burblebabbage,
They worried about the incoming damage,
and brave wee Hansel and clever sister, Greta,
Watched high prices and dreamt of better.
They saw ICE soldiers march down the hill
To evict poor villagers against their will -
Billy goats and little pigs were driven from town;
Chicken Licken warned the sky would fall down.

Then turning his gaze to the desert sand,
He targeted mighty Persia’s biblical land.
He ordered a strike from the midnight sky,
And watched the missiles and drones fly,
Blocking the Straits, and telling more lies.
"A twenty-five percent tax," he began to scrawl,
"On anyone trading with them at all!"

Beware, beware the Trumpywump
His skin is orange, he likes to pump,
Back in the house, with a bigger desk,
His second term is quite grotesque.

"He's starting up wars,’ Hansel cried, ‘doubling tax,
The whole wide world is blowing its stacks!"
So they marched to his door and knocked on the wood,
To tell the old goblin he must be good.
"The world is on fire; the costs are too high!"
But Trumpywump laughed and looked at the sky.
"The weather is better than ever, it's a beautiful day,
And besides," he snorted, "I'm making them pay!"

As he sat down to open Truth Social instead,
with a long angry post before going to bed -
using alphabetti spaghetti he made a word soup
which was more coherent when it came out as poop.
"The economy's soaring, the borders are tight,
The Trumpywump wins, and he's always right!"
"Your protests are over, the country is mine,
I’m changing to rule ‘till the end of time!"

Beware, beware the Trumpywump
His skin is orange, he likes to pump,
Back in the house, with a bigger desk,
His second term is quite grotesque.

But Greta was clever, Greta was good,
She knew how to navigate this political wood.
She knew his weak spot was his massive pride,
And the endless golden path he walked inside.
‘He has no sense of humour, he can’t take a joke,
His Achilles heel is a Big Mac and Coke.
So, she laid out a trail of shiny golden fries,
To a monstrous tower that grew into the skies.

The Goblin followed the greasy trail of food,
Licking purple lips… as the burger looked good.
He sniffed at the scent of meat in the air,
and climbed the steps to Queen Melania’s chair.
Then ran to the right wing to wave to the crowd,
But slipped on a gherkin while shouting too loud.
He fell from his tower and bounced off the sole,
Then vanished forever down a tax loophole.

So finally, a moral for generations one and all,
Keep checks on your leaders, or watch freedom fall.

Suzanne Fairless-Aitken (June 2026) 


Illustration © Tom Owen, 2020


The original poem from his first term is online here: