Here lies before you the greatly anticipated attempt at a ballad, which includes, for those who do keep up on the modern times, four verses in each stanza, and two or more rhyming verses in each. Beware; it is literally the worst ballad likely ye have ever beheld.
Come all ye, comrades
Harken forth and listen to me
as I tell the tale of the absentee
and her long lost ballot.
Tis a tale between two men who fight
for the right to partaaay
and for vote of the military
who they be quick to use, slow to pay
Hear thee, hear thee: fight to the death!
Here we begin with a poor butterbars
Who must vote for the next White House guest
in order to be ignored just like all the rest
First on this journey she must find the papers to sign
The office of the registration holds grumpy ladies
of whom a smile has not blessed the face
for years and years of many a election race
They confuse and they point and they furrow their hairy brows
But oh, friends, at last! At last!
The heroine has the right of the 19th Amendment,
slipped under the door for a say in the government,
it shines as the beacon of freedom and change.
But alas! A battle ravages the heart of the heroine,
once so pleased to be a successful absentee
Who to choose whilst she is overseas?
Who will fight for her when she fights for them?
The sad ballad of the absentee cannot end in peace.
The truth is that elephants are red, donkeys are blue,
and both smell of complete doo-doo.
Thus, she knows not which one to choose.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the best part of this ballad: the END.
