The Good Guys have Jiminy Crickets

The Bad have Imps of the Perverse

And have us subverting

Binge-eating and blurting

Some filterless joke or a curse

The Imp on my shoulder suggested

I make fun of Andy Devine

So straight to the Kremlin

Went Froggy the Gremlin

And gave Comrade Khrushchev a spine

The Imp trips me up on the sidewalk

With a crack of an eighth of an inch

When my saddle fell off

With the modestest cough

The Imp told me “That was a Cinch”

And now Imps sit pretty in Congress

And havoc is wreaked in the Senate

The Head Imp and Pesk

At the Resolute Desk

Flips my swi