Trump’s Nightmare Song

A Victorian Farce for Our Times

Iolanthe has suddenly popped back into the news because Chief Justice Rehnquist, who presidied over the last presidential impeachment trial, added some stripes from the lead character’s costume to his own robes. He also quoted one of the operetta’s best lines to explain his role: “I did nothing in particular, and did it very well.” Is Roberts following his lead?

But the 1882 show actually contains a great deal of relevance for us today, from the elite’s arrogant chorus:

“Bow, bow ye lower middle classes,
 Bow, bow, ye tradesmen, bow ye masses.”

To Private Willis’ oh-so-true observation that

 “Every boy and every gal
  That's born into the world alive
 Is either a little Liberal
  Or else a little Conservative.”

And then there is the Lord Chancellor’s creative solution to revising irksome laws by simply adding a negative—Trump’s approach to all unwanted healthcare, environmental, safety, etc., legislation and regulations.

Finally, Iolanthe offers a fantasy which we can readily enjoy today when the entire membership of the upper legislative house are turned into fairies, grow wings and fly away.

But the operetta’s most famous song reflects a much darker side, as the Lord Chancellor relates a night of terror and frightful dreams.

If you’re not familiar with the original, you may wish to listen to Martyn Greene’s exceptional performance before reading the parody. Click here:

https://archive.org/details/MartynGreensGilbertAndSullivan-NEWTRANSFER/16.+The+Nightmare+Song.mp3. The main section (parodied here) begins at 0:44

Trump’s Nightmare Song, Sung to the Lord Chancellor’s Nightmare Song in Gilbert & Sullivan’s Iolanthe

When you’re lying all day and you can’t get away 
  from the facts the fact-checkers put out there,
You feel totally free to hurl verbal debris at those 
  enemies whom you just can’t bear.
Not correct political--so hypocritical--
  why bother with courtesy common
When you can score points, put a nose out of joints, 
  and your crowd just answers with “Amen!”? 

The media’s disloyal, brings your blood to a boil, 
  with all the fake news they’re reporting,
Makes you hot and real cross as you try to toss out
  alternative facts for distorting.
The courts are no better, they are so unfettered, 
  letting cases against you to fester
For breaking state laws, and some phony old clause, 
  and allowing old girlfriends to pester.

Well, you get some relief with messages brief, 
  while night creatures out there are creeping,
And soon you’ll be tweeting those messages fleeting 
  while everyone else will be sleeping,
For you tweet you are running the country,  
  and gunning for anyone not fully loyal,
These losers you feel must be brought to heel, 
  and taught to consider you royal.
And you’re giving a treat (with lots of red meat) 
  to thousands of real world escapists,
A despicable hoard who all came on board 
  when you said Mexicanos were rapists.

And bound in this effort was Christie, a sissy 
  who started that morning from Jersey.
He’s a bit oversized and you’re hardly surprised 
  he’s caught up in the bridge controversy.
He’s tossed overboard, and you thank the Lord, 
  you now have a pal on this journey
A son of old Dixie, a good old ass licksie, 
  whom you make your gen’ral attorney. 

He recuses himself, so he’s put on a shelf, 
  and replaced with Roy Cohn resurrected,
A man of the bar, he’s better by far, 
  for ethics he’s firmly rejected.

And with this new crew, your sky has turned blue, 
  you can focus on money you’re making, 
You’re telling your heirs all the particulairs 
  of emoluments ripe for the taking.
It’s a scheme of devices to get at low prices 
great deals on hotels and high towers.
Which tickled your spawn, giving them as they fawn 
a lesson in abuse of powers. 

In hotels next door, the foreigners snore, 
then gather in your office oval,
In exchange for the rights to numerous sites 
for which you need building approval. 
The deals are so many, they don’t cost a penny, 
you’re trading decisions for favors.
But as you reach closure, you’ve sudden exposure, 
in a call with Russia’s near neighbor.

And now in from the cold, the Democrats bold, 
impeach your good name, so it’s never the same, 
in a process unfair, you don’t stand a prayer, 
just for a quid pro quo that most would just say, “So?”, 
hearing deep-blue-state traitors, just swamp alligators, 
in sworn testimony that’s really so phony, 
you must now rely that Mitch will defy 
the role he’s sworn to endeavor.

But the darkness has passed and you no longer fast, 
The tweeting now ends, time for Fox and his Friends,
And thank goodness they’ll praise you for-ever.