First Lady Laura Bush began the third National Book Festival by reciting a poem, written by none other than her husband, the President of the United States. To honor the “written word in an age of visual media”” and to thank “American authors for their ‘tales of mystery, history and heroism’” (to quote the Guardian‘s article), this is the poem she recited. And God help me, I wish I were making this up:Roses are red
Violets are blue
Oh my, “Lump in the Bed”*
How I’ve missed you.
Roses are redder
Bluer am I
Seeing you kissed
by that charming French guy.
The dogs and the cat,
they missed you too.
Barney’s still mad you dropped him.
He ate your shoe.
The distance, my dear,
has been such a barrier.
Next time you want an adventure,
just land on a carrier.
And that is just another reason I wish I lived under a Bartlet presidency. I can just imagine the smiley-faced stick figure drawings that must have accompanied that ode. And I can further imagine it proudly affixed to the White House’s refrigerator door.Violets are blue
Oh my, “Lump in the Bed”*
How I’ve missed you.
Roses are redder
Bluer am I
Seeing you kissed
by that charming French guy.
The dogs and the cat,
they missed you too.
Barney’s still mad you dropped him.
He ate your shoe.
The distance, my dear,
has been such a barrier.
Next time you want an adventure,
just land on a carrier.
* Evidently, one of the President’s pet names for the First Lady is “Lump in the Bed”.
Partial verses from Newsday. Complete verse from The Guardian.
