The Drubbs Love to Talk
(And Boy, Do They Talk!)
Wherever there’s silence, they fill it with squawk.
The Drubbs love to talk—oh, they talk night and day,
In long curling sentences, winding away.
They talk in the boardrooms, they talk on the news,
They talk while deciding which stories to choose.
They talk in the courts while the gavel gets cold,
They talk over facts, and they talk over bold.
They talk at the parties with pink lemonade,
Where deals are made quietly, deep in the shade.
They talk at conventions, they talk in the pews,
They talk while dismissing inconvenient views.
They talk to reporters and whisper in ears—
Then grin when their stories are all that one hears.
They never stop talking, they must be heard first,
And if you should speak up, prepare for the worst.
They’ll frown and they’ll cluck and they’ll twist up your phrase,
Then shout from the rooftops for several days.
They say, “We’re the voices! The grown-ups! The wise!”
While dodging the mirrors and blinding their eyes.
They speak not for truth, but to tighten their hold—
And hope you stop thinking, do as you're told.
The Drubbs like to mingle, to gossip, to grin,
But the messiest messes? They just won’t wade in.
They’ll whisper and nod and they’ll smirk just so,
While someone else takes the political blow.
And up on her platform, where bubbles do float,
Is Daisy Drubb, in her candy-striped coat.
With pearls on her wrist and a crown in her hair,
She rules with a smile that says, “Don’t you dare.”
She doesn’t shout orders—oh no, she’s too sweet!
She just sends a suggestion with ribbon and treat.
And her loyal Drubbettes, well, they know what she means,
They handle the grunt work behind all the scenes.
She curtsies to crowds, then turns with a blink—
And someone gets ousted before you can think.
She says, “I’m just fair! This is only a song!
But the show must go on, so just play along.”
So what do you do when the Drubbs run the floor?
When rules are just ribbons, and votes are a chore?
When truth is just twisted and tucked out of sight,
And wrong always smiles while dressed up as right?
You open the book that they tried to rewrite.
You gather the brave who still know wrong from right.
You speak through the noise, through the sneers and the spin—
And say, “This is our party. We will rise again.”
For Drubbs may be crafty, and Daisy may scheme,
But truth, once awakened, can shatter a dream.
Their grip isn’t law—it just feels like it’s tight…
Until one soul stands and flips on the light.
