The Beverly Clintons

(Sing to the tune of the Beverly Hillbillies)

Well dere once was a story 'bout a man named Bill;

Da poor president couldn't keep his willie still;

Den one day he was workin' at his desk,

When in walks Monica and shows da boy her chest...

Boobs, that is. Two of 'em. Bodacious ta ta's.

Well da next thing ya know, Monica is on her knees,

Mouth open wide and as happy as you please;

Bill sez, "oh yeah now-don't say a thing,"

"If you do a good job then we'll have a little fling."

Blow job, that is. Phalli osculation.

Well, Bill lost his load and it fell upon her dress,

He said, "Clean it up, 'cuz you really are a mess,

And you're invited here to dis fine locality,

To have a heapin' helpin' of little Willie C."

Da wiener, that is. Da presidential staff.

So week after week, Monica is on her knees

Keepin' Willie and his Wiener just as happy as you please,

But then she figured out dat the fling had gone too far,

And she blabbed it all to Linda Tripp who blabbed it all to Starr.

Bad girl, that is. Cigars. Bodacious ta ta's.

Well it weren't too long till we all knew the score,

'bout da stuff dat went down behind da oval office door;

Da country's in da toilet and da people cry, "No More"

But if we oust da cheatin' jerk, den we gotta live with Gore.

Boob, that is. Great big one. Head stuck up his rear.

So now ya know da story 'bout Bill our president,

Wonderin' if dis fling's gonna cost him every cent;

So da moral of da story is to do it quietly,

And stay outta trouble with dat witch named Hillary.

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