[From Bruce Abbott (2000.12.16.1345 EST)}
More along the same lines:
THE RAVIN'
Once within a poll-booth dreary, as I pondered weak and weary
Over a rather quaint and curious slate of candidates of yore,
Suddenly there came a tapping, overhead a raven, flapping,
Settled on a flag pole that was standing near the exit door.
"How odd," I thought, "a raven on the flag pole near the door."
Only that, and nothing more.
from there it gazed upon me like a judge upon the bench, see
As I tried to read the ballot and decide who I was for.
There was Bush and Gore, Buchanan (Where was Governor O'Bannon?),
There was Nader for the Green folks and perhaps a dozen more.
And I tried to make my mind up � should I vote for Bush or Gore?
Quoth the raven, "Vote for Gore."
I couldn't think, with all that squawking: Who can vote, with ravens talking?
And I prayed for inspiration as I stared upon the floor.
I prayed for help in my decision � maybe give me psychic vision,
As I gripped the punching stylus �till it made my fingers sore,
"Who's the best choice for the country when we tally up the score?"
Quoth the raven, "Vote for Gore."
At last, I punched a hole there, on the ballot card a hole there
Where the arrow pointed to the spot for Lieberman and Gore,
Then I left the poll booth, sweating, now on Gore I was a'betting,
And I strode across the room toward that flag pole and the door,
I had made my lowly contribution to the voter count for Gore,
Quoth the raven, "What's the score?"
Now the polling booths were closin'; soon we'd know who had been chosen,
Soon we'd know who would be President � would it be Bush or Gore?
All the states did their accounting, electoral votes were mounting,
Only Florida, remaining, could decide for Bush or Gore,
Only Florida, alone, could decide for Bush or Gore,
Only that, and nothing more.
Pollsters held Gore as winner but retracted after dinner,
The vote, they said, was now too close to call for Bush or Gore,
Then with final precincts counted, with the votes cast it amounted
By a razor thin majority a win for Bush, not Gore,
"We demand a recount!" said supporters of Al Gore.
We don't believe the score!"
Soon machines were humming as, through stacks of ballots, thumbing
They recorded for a second time the holes for Bush or Gore,
As they added up the tally there appeared to be a rally,
In the count of votes that fell into the column marked "Al Gore,"
But when the counting ended it was clear Bush held the floor.
Gore supporters: "Count some more!"
"You've got us all offended, we want this ballot count upended,
Those machines can't read intention when the voter's choice was Gore,
Only human eyes can see what the choice was meant to be,
It's obvious a scratch or dimpled chad's a vote for Gore,
We want them all recounted �till the vote comes out for Gore,
Only this and nothing more."
So they started counting dimples, scratches, marks, and pimples,
And against the laws of chance all the votes came up for Gore,
"Every vote must count!," they said as all the counting went ahead,
Except for ballots cast by absentees who weren't for Gore,
"If there's no stamp, intent be damned, you can't add it to the score!
Count only Gore votes, nothing more."
Bush supporters were not happy: "This," they said, "is really crappy.
By now the chads are falling from the ballets to the floor!
This is no election, it's illegal misdirection,
The rules in place have been ignored, to give the count to Gore!
This isn't fair, it's got to stop, this ballot-counting war."
Only that, and nothing more.
They sued to have the counting stopped, those extra, dimpled-chad "votes"
dropped,
But Florida's Supreme Court by a nearly even split said "Let's have more!"
So the counting was restarted, including ballots that had been carted,
from Dade to Tallahassee's District Court, and more.
Holding ballots to their foreheads, they could "feel" a vote for Gore.
Make those count, and nothing more.
The United States Supreme Court, acting quickly, gave a retort,
"Stop the counting and recounting of those ballots on the floor.
This is not a fair election, we'll have to order a court correction
If you don't establish standards as to how a vote to score."
They asked Gore's lawyer, David Boies, for a standard way to score,
"That's tough," said Boies, and nothing more.
The Court, against its predilection, ordered an end to this election,
Citing lack of equal protection, ending Presidential hopes of Gore,
"We was robbed!" supporters screamed but in the end it really seemed
That those were just the words of losers sad and sore,
The System worked, but not, it seems, to favor Gore,
Only that, and nothing more.
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penned by B. Abbott