Of candidates I've known (and I've known some),
Until I first heard you, I would groan some.
And when you came in sight, sir, my heart grew light
At this bold tax deemed "9-9-9".

It's easy to tell, by gravitas fit you'll
Soon serve impressively president-shul.
And so I've racked my brain, hop-ing you'll explain
All the slings at you, "nein, nein, nein".

Mein Herr Herman Cain, please let me explain:
"In fear, Libs complain" means that you're grand.
Mein Herr Herman Cain, again I'll explain:
It means you've the flair that Dems can't stand.

I could say, "Swell's that fella", even "Sir Wonder-full";
But language often fails me telling in puns, "You're cool."
I've tried to refrain, by clearing my brain;
Dismiss me, someday you'll understand.

"In fear, Libs complain" means that you're grand;
It means you're the bear O. can't withstand.

[1]

But dear Mister Cain, you've got to explain:
With Washington's strain, how can this stand
In Senate and House, where funds for campaign
Depend on the loopholes lobbies planned?

You can say, "Well, I'll tell the people, it will go far
In job incentives, help us sell to markets on par."
And when you explain, support you willl gain;
They will demand when they understand. [2]

Why fear Mister Cain?
I'd cheer Mister Cain!