Rexy vacates; his job is done…
extracting fuel, likely more fun;
he now can cool it in the sun.
Rexy vacates, whoa! short was his run.

Rexy vacates; he was a mule
bucking his boss too frequently;
his stubbornness was plain to see.
Rexy vacates, gone the “Moscow Mule.”

On a March day, he learned by tweet his reign was over;
his term at State was a very short one—
Rexy vacates…was destined for a fall.

Rexy vacates; he had to go;
the world of State’s not his purview.
Don’t let the gate slam and hit you
in the nates—“ouch!”—as out you go.

Rexy’s nates got spanked; a “nyet!”—
to employ language of the czar—
came across ether from afar.
Rexy vacates: Dude was told to “get!”

Now he is no longer able to sit at the big table.
You gotta figure, his firing stings.
Rexy vacates. He’s now Stateless and his fate, yes, was to fall.
His days of fueling, too, are done.
Rexy vacates;
he’s under a wandering star—
Rexy’s vagrant.