At Fort Bliss stood a soldier on call,
While his wife missed a hearing roll call,
When parole in place lost its place,
And safeguards rolled back apace,
She was sent to Honduras; he shoulders it all.

In Minne-snow-ta, an open-seat chase
Turned frigid and shifted the race;
After Trump's ICE crackdown,
The Dem primary showdown
Has hopefuls skating for first place.

There once was a shield called TPS,
A buffer from quake-driven stress;
But DHS flipped the switch,
now the timeline's a glitch—
Leaving Haitians on thin ICE, no less.

A Texas land boss said, “C-B-Please,
that riverside tract isn’t yours to seize;
by the Rio Grande scene,
quit mowing it clean—
draw the line, not the brush, through our trees.”

By the Court with its marble-y gleam,
crowds rally on birthright’s big theme;
But the due date to plead
slipped away at high speed—
the citizen-ship sailed past the Supreme.

In Houston, the tale isn’t nice:
Passengers say agents of ICE
rammed their van with a slam,
then fired—ka-blam!
Now, Houston, we’ve got a problem with ICE.

There once was a D.C. ally’s drawl,
Who boosted Trump’s towering wall;
“Make it taller, go longer,
The nation grows stronger!”
But critics called that borderline off-the-wall.