Upon Hearing a Choral Performance at an Episcopal Church






I am Episcopalian

The Queen of the Cotillion

I think I am Chuchillian

I’m Drenched in gold bullion


I’m old money, of course

We sorts nobly discourse

On the stigma and source

Of the Jewish remorse


Why can’t they aspire

To sing in the choir

Till the day they expire

Will they continue to sire


Unwashed swarthy hordes

Fail to sound our high chords

Do not curtsy to our lords

Awaiting Heaven’s rewards


For speech Christian and clipped

Like buttocks quivering and whipped

Measured, mannered – dead as a crypt

Like old German gothic script


Speaking of penmanship, ours is fine

Elegant, stately and feline

Our ideation’s asinine

But stylistically we’re sublime


Copyright, David Gottfried, 1998


Bill Clinton — Body and Soul

Writtten Upon Hearing that Bill Clinton Injured a Tendon


All the tendons in Clinton playing tennis

Like the tinsel on a trumpet for a present

Will quiver and quake

And suddenly break

He’s the antithesis of cement


Without the fortitude of farina

All ferment utterly flaccid

He has not a spine

To stout whiskey wine

We imbibe and feel rather placid


When he speaks you smell the ribs

Of Lyndon Johnson’s barbeques

With the hint

Of sickly mint

And Gomer Pyles pot liquor stews


Copyright, David Gottfried, 1997

Satire on the 1996 Presidential Candidates



Doleful Dole so forelorn

Shows his scorn like Monday morn

He always eats his Kansas corn

Grim and Glum his life’s lovelorn


Cracker Gram likes his grits

But he hates his wife’s small tits

So he looks for tarts sans wits

To star in pornorgraphic flics


Pat Buchanan’s rough and wild

And truly hates the time and mild

Did you see he has no child

He’s really one with Oscar Wilde


Mister Lugar’s really swell

He says his flannel shirt does smell

He’ll give you all the rebel yell

He takes millions and gives us hell


Allan Keyes is pretty keen

On family values, keeping clean

But he really loves to preen

He’s such a screaming drama queen


And now young Forbes is up at bat

He says he wants a tax rate flat

He really wants his chests down pat

He’s gay like Daddy, the little bra


And what’s in Hillary’s bag of tricks

Saws to cut off Republican pricks

You know she’s a dominatrix

Hark her heels thunderous clicks


Copyright, David Gottfried, 1996

A Parody of the 2004 Presidential Election

A Parody of the 2004 Presidential Election



Howard Dean is venting spleen

Reminiscent of clean for Gene

He demonstrates the war’s obscene

But seems completely naive, green


Ms. Carol Moseley Braun

Hasn’t either brains or brawn

Just a cipher and a spawn

Of Shirley Chisolm’s splendid dawn


Al Sharpton is our buffoon

He screams and shouts like a saloon

His rhythmic speech is in tune

His mind’s as massive as a prune


Richard Gephardt wants health for all

And sounds to me like seconol

His recitations can’t enthrall

When he talks he seems to crawl


Mr. Graham keeps copious notes

On every fact he duly dotes

He stores them up until he bloats

A mind of arcane things and quotes


Kucinich is a kind of witch

Speaking in a fevered pitch

Sowing enmity stitch by stitch

He’ll be pacified when he’s rich


Lieberman’s no oberman

Just a mensch, a gentleman

But what pray tell is his plan

Just Bush-lite sans the klan


John Kerry, patrician, pure

Finds many things he does abjure

And in his speech he will obscure

The compromises that nix the cure


John Edwards has flowing hair

That apes the locks of Bobby fair

Professes to care for our despair

His pabulum makes me want to swear


But Rumsfeld and his little rascals

Woolfowitz and assorted jackals

Herald war with happy cackles

Their raging hate simmers, crackles


And King George is feeling swell

He gives us all the rebel yell

The poor consigned to hottest hell

The liberty bell sounds its death knell


Copyright, David Gottfried, 2003

Lewdness in Public



All the panties on parade

Promenading in the park

See them hitched really high

Oh they never miss their mark


See the nylons, see the spandex

See flesh squeezed till it hurts

Its a fruit about to burst

And it screams please do me first


When the fabric’s very black

And the skin is white and smooth

It begs for men quite crude

And says Sir be  uncouthe


Oh be lewd, use no lube

Make that ass be harassed

Plunge the dagger of dick

Hard and heartless and so fast


Copyright, David Gottfried, 2008

Post Modernism and Verbal Masturbation






Derrida doth declaims

And denounces and derides

Forcefully he declares

The great void:  It abides


Derrida doth defames

And debates and decides

Truth he flatly disavows

All succor he overrides


Derrida doth dissents

His diatribes duly deny

The diabolic in Iraq

He doesn’t care if a million die


Derrida doth he dither

To determine, to deploy

His declinations to do justice

Are derelictions he’ll enjoy


Derrida doth dissuades

And deters and detains

The force of morals, meaning, love

With savage reason he arraigns


Copyright, David Gottfried, 2004

My Civil Procedure Professor in Law School




Estreicher, Estreicher, not like a hitch hiker

Rotund, and courtly, he’s far from a biker

Imperious, invidious he sends cads to Rikers

He stands august as mercy’s denier


Estreicher, Estreicher never feels wholly well

And thus endeavors to impart howling hell

Speaking quite sternly he thinks he’s Cromwell

Where oh where does this madman dwell.


Estreicher, Estreicher, may eat pheasant and porridge

And tell the poor urchins they’ll just have to forage

His waist is so large he’ll ride in a carriage

He binds intellect to avarice in unholy marriage


Copyright, David Gottfried, 2006