Former President Bill Clinton just won’t go away. Named as the go-between in the job offer to Congressman Sestak to get out of the race against Arlen Specter, Bill is still in the news on a regular basis. Hillary, whose latest was to tell a foreign journalist that the United States Justice Department is going to sue the State of Arizona for daring to uphold the law of the land, has amply demonstrated that she has no business being Secretary of State or any other responsible position. But none of this matters, for it seems the Clintons will always be with us. We know Bill’s story, and how he got there, but what of Hillary? First Lady, Senator from New York, Secretary of State, none of which would have happened had she not married Bill. The true story of how Bill and Hillary met has not been told, except to me, by an acquaintance from Arkansas, who knew them back in the sweet used to be.
Young Hill, fresh out of school of law
While driving south for pleasure
Did chance to be in Arkansas
Which she thought was a treasure
She thought she’d stay a little while
But not for long, no, mercy
The backwoods didn’t suit her style
But better than New Jercy
She thought she better get a job
A good one would be dandy
She asked a guy whose shirt said Bob
Who said see Bill or Randy
You’ll find them in old Frank’s Saloon
Most evenin’s after dinner
You’ll know them, Randy’s a balloon
While Bill’s a little thinner
She wondered what they did for funs
In woods so deep, my gracious
And stuffed a pair of tiny guns
Into her bra capacious
Inside she found a lookin’ guy
A-grinnin’ and a-leerin’
He fixed her with his wand’rin eye
So graciously endearin’
She said hello and might by chance
You’re either Bill or Randy
I’m both he laughed and we can dance
To good old boy Moe Bandy
They spun the floor, her head awhirl
They danced the floor so lightly
She thought I’m just a college girl
He’s holding me too tightly
And what is more he is for sure
So absolutely charming
And though I’m just the girl du jour
This feeling is alarming
She knew she had to pry him free
She’d have to try the pistols
She hated how he hummed off key
She didn’t like the whistles
She pulled her guns, said you’re too much
I like my men more strangerous
He grinned, said ah could tell by touch
Them mammalia was derringerous
You weren’t all that scared, she said
Are guns in bras so normal
And with a grin he shook his head
Said not when goin’ formal
He said a gal he sometimes saw
Who every woman hates
She always carried in her bra
A pair of 38s
They fell in love right then and there
To everyone a mystery
They pledged their lives they each would share
The rest, they say, is history
