Ode to Foggy Bottom

Rooting snouts and fat lips suck
On the public's bone-dry teats.
Slopping up each treasured drop
Of their favorite fiscal treats.

Filthy cloven hooves relax,
Their sodden smiles expand.
Unsated, besotted, fat and dull,
Too stuffed with dough to stand.

We pay their way, they bleed us dry;
It's time to throw them out!
With pitchforks, torches, feathers, tar -
We'll put them in a rout!