by Julia Griffin

for Hannah Graham

“White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt refused to rule out a potential military draft during a Sunday interview, stating President Trump ‘wisely keeps his options on the table.'”
—Fox News

(After Phil Ochs)

Oh, I’m just a genius President
Who ought to be given a crown:
I believe in God, he’s part of my squad,
And a-blamin’ the poor and brown;

And when it came my time to serve
I asked my old man Fred.
Turns out he had a draft board buddy,
And this is what we said:

Sarge, I’m only twenty-two, I’ve got a deal to do,
And I always carry a purse;
I’ve an orange rash and a bunch of cash,
And I’ve been signed off by a nurse.

“Yes, think of my career in the real estate sphere
And the saps who’ll be paying me rent,
Besides, I’ll star on TV, have a wife or three,
Then I’m gonna be the President.

“I’ve spurs on my feet, though they still smell sweet,
And I’m learning the POTUS craft,
And this I swear, when I’m settled in there,
I’ll be bringing in a brand-new draft.

“I got a taste for war, I’m gonna send the poor,
They’re what any Board prefers;
You can forget my son—when all is done
I’ll be worried about his spurs.

“I’ll be seventy-nine with my lackeys in line
To cringe any time that I frown;
And Sarge, let me sham out of Vietnam
And I’ll end up rocking a crown.”