Mad Mueller on a wintry day, rocked the office with a "Hey,
Why no indictment of Trump the Younger? For news like that the press does hunger."
Swearing, "Damn rot!" he sent out a plea, warning his aides from sea to sea,
"We've got to get Trump before April first." Then his anger came out in a blood-curdling burst.
"Prosecutors come, and prosecutors go. but this investigation is moving to slow."
Special consul Mueller, dejected, sat down, his hair in a jumble, his face in a frown.
"Oh, for private practice," he said, forcing a grin, "just divorces, and trusts, and the money rolls in."
But, No, he'd opted for government service, and here he is grumbling that it makes him nervous.
If he makes the case for Russian collusion, and brings down the president at the conclusion,
He'll be super hero to 'bout half of the nation, but a rat in the other half's grim conversation.
But if in the end he fails, is a flop, the president will mock him, holding a mop.
And the saddest words of tongue or pen,will be "It was, but shouldn't have been."
