It's important to share, or so I've been taught,
to show kindness to others, to be a good sport.
But all of those teachings have taken a bump -
for I share my birthday with Donald Trump.
For years I knew not of this dark, dreadful fate,
and with ignorant bliss I honoured the date -
but then it got hijacked, sullied, gazumped
by a self-serving bigot, a foul gibberlump.
With him, I would share an infectious disease,
a mouldy bread roll, infestations of fleas,
a romantic weekend at a toxic waste dump -
but please, not my birthday, Mr. Tangerine Chump.
Alternative dates he's welcome to try -
12th Febtember, 33rd July.
But 14th June? In a lake, take a jump
and find a new date, you deranged sewage pump.
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