The legend lives on from Hyannis on down
asking, "What we can do for our country?"
As opposed to the whine of Republican swine
saying, "You better cut taxes for me!"

With a load of smuggled beer in Prohibition years
Papa Joe made the Kennedy bankroll.
And the Mayor's daughter Rose was the woman he chose
without seeming especially thankful.

Made Hollywood flicks, picking up cash and chicks
and found every big business exemption.
But also what he did, he and Rose raised nine kids.
Could they possibly be his redemption?

A hero was Jack, saved his men, hurt his back
but Joe Junior would not be so lucky.
Rosemary, Kathleen, they'd not be on the scene
so the rest would have to be more plucky.

So Eunice and Pat and Jean haven't just sat.
Married well and helped the underprivileged.
But their brothers we viewed in an era so rude.
If only they'd had today's knowledge.

The Veep they called Dick tried to play every trick
thinking he had Eisenhower's bounty.
But he'd have to wait until at least '68
thanks to Johnson, and Daley's Cook County.

They all oohed and ahhed at this Boston Greek god
and his wife in the White House's lobby.
But no further in, and they could not begin
if there was no permission from Bobby.

Jack ached every night but fought for civil rights
and saved us all from nuclear peril.
But at least three shots from conspirators' plots
took the grandson of John F. Fitzgerald.

Does anyone know where the killers did go
as the cops turned the city to circus?
The Commissioners said it was done by one Red
but that answer's not sufficient fer us!

We might not be chilled had not Bobby been killed
or if Ted didn't drive until dawning.
But all that remains is the faces and the names
waiting for John-John under the awning.

The Post prints Page Six, the Enquirer sings
of the myriad Kennedy scandals.
But they'll never print, though they'd still make a mint
of the good that the family's handled.

They might have done more starting in '64.
The successors of Jack left us wanting.
As Presidents go, he was better than most
and the Ghosts of November are haunting!

In a chapel so blue each November 22
as it did in St. Matthew's Cathedral
the church bell chimes for the killing, a crime
for the grandson of John F. Fitzgerald.

The legend lives on from Hyannis on down
asking, "What we can do for our country?"
As opposed to the whine of Republican swine
saying, "You better cut taxes for me!"