Waltradamus, seer of all things seeable, peers into his glass of Heineken and predicts the following:

 

The wave will rush upon the shore

The elephant totes up the score

He can’t believe what his eyes see

The seats he’s won count sixty-three

 

The tide comes swirling on the beach

The Senate, once seemed out of reach

Will teeter on the verge and then

Will reach the magic number ten

 

As unemployment checks run out

The unemployed will scream and shout

And blame it all on Mister O

Sad end to Magic Negro show

 

In Mass the voters finally end

The reign of Frank their fruity friend

It’s sad to see her end this way

Defeated, lonely, old and gay

 

What of Pelosi you may ask

She will return, but to what task?

No longer Speaker, power gone

The end for once proud Obie pawn

 

And Reid, it’s back to Searchlight now

To sit and ponder why and how

The voting public could not see

That she was not as smart as he

 

And if Republicans are smart

They’ll hold this lesson in their heart

You’re there to do the people’s will

Do that for years you’ll be there still