Big blades whirl, and pilots sure are burly
but open doors for press once in a while.
So this host man
looks truthful and not squirrely—
perhaps, like us, they’re taken by his smile.
Takes a flight, and later his reporting
makes it seem like in his veins is coursing ice.
NBC brass happily cavorting
’cause it could mean jacking up the ad-buy price.

He says it in his broadcast on one evening:
in a chopper he was that got shot down.
So now those NBC execs are grieving:
their headline guy's gained cheap kind of renown.

They can’t hide that Brian lies;
now his guile is in their eyes.
With second thoughts ’bout those ad buys—
there ain’t no way to hide that Brian lies.

Though some copters did go down, he wasn’t fated
to be part of a group with nerves of steel.
On a later night he prevaricated:
yes, he made it up—i.e., it wasn’t real.

He might have faced the arms of those of terror,
but he misled us by a country mile.
Fog of war, he claims, can produce an error,
or was this always his invention style?

They can’t hide that Brian lies
now his guile is in their eyes
his falsehoods now seem not so wise.
There ain’t no way to hide it: Brian lies.

He takes off, exploring what he done done;
meanwhile network investigates the guy.
It’s possible the anchor might be undone:
they might find: his Katrina tale don’t fly.

We wonder if Lester Holt is the trainee
to take the place of he who wasn’t cool.
It seems Bri must have surely been insane; he
must know: all is recorded as a rule.

Why oh why do some big shots do insane things?
Guess they’re swept up in their celebrity.
It’s bad enough that many do inane things.
Now Williams’ world’s changed with celerity.

Won’t be tried for plyin’ lies,
but to guile of his we’re wise.
He wasn’t shot down from the skies
There ain’t no way to hide Bri’s lyin’ guise.
Dummy couldn’t hide his flyin’ lies.